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sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years

Text

NFWMB (boxer!harry)

Warnings: language, nsfw content, alcohol, violence

Pairing: boxer!Harry x reader

Word Count: 30k (I got carried away)

A/N: So this got a little out of hand!! I will admit!! I did not mean to make this so long!! but it’s about the yearning people!!! the yearning!!! anyways I really hope you guys like this!! just a few disclaimers: my medical knowledge comes from google and my first-aid badge I got in girl guides so please do not take any of the medical advice in here as doctor recommended. also this is very long and if you’re reading on mobile it may make it crash? so try opening it on a web browser under the read more if you need to!! I really honestly can’t believe I managed to write 30k, but I love boxer!harry so much, and yes he does have long hair in this fic because I make the rules!! thank you to @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy for proof reading this for me and putting up with my messages about it. also, the title is from NFWMB by hozier and i’d recommend listening to it as you read!! as always, feedback is appreciated!! and if you like it, please reblog it!! reblogging is the best way to show content creators support and encourage them to write more!!

{masterlist}

If money wasn’t so tight, there’s no way Y/N would be doing this.

She’s thought it over a thousand times, running every possible scenario and outcome in her head. More often than not, those scenarios end badly. Yet here she is, standing at the edge of stairs that lead to a gym below the streets of New York City. Men push past her to get below, muttering quick apologies as they bump into her. None of them are sincere, she notices, but why would they be? They don’t care about her. Y/N, on the other hand…she’s being paid to care about them. They’re why she’s here.

The offer had been posted on a bulletin board in the nursing student’s lounge on campus. It was a crumpled piece of paper, with a handwritten message scribbled across it. Y/N had spotted it when she was looking at the board for a summer job, and the uniqueness of it caught her eye. She had pulled it down from the board, reading it over.

WANTED:

Looking for an individual with medical background/first aid training.

Complete medical degree not required.

For all inquiries, contact Patrick Lawson.

Y/N remembers running her fingers over the phone number listed. It was a peculiar request, to say the least. Patrick Lawson, whoever he was, seemed to be searching for someone with medical training, but didn’t require a full medical professional. Still…a job was a job. And it had looked like it was the most promising thing on the board.

Later that day, Y/N had found herself calling the number, and within three minutes of dialing, she had set up a meeting with Patrick Lawson at a Starbucks a few blocks away from campus. When she walked in, her eyes scanning the café for someone who would’ve posted the ad, she had instantly known who he was. The burly man by the window with a long scar across his weathered face and the smell of cigarette smoke wafting from him stuck out from the crowd of students studying, and he had seemed to be the only patron who would hire unlicensed medical personnel.

“Hi.” Y/N had walked over slowly. “Are you Patrick Lawson?”

“That depends.” He looked her up and down, a small smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N. We spoke on the phone?” She took the advertisement out of her bag and handed it to him.

“Right.” Patrick nodded, motioning to the chair across from him. “Sit down.”

“Alright.” Y/N had taken a seat slowly, her eyes on the door behind him. She hadn’t quite decided not to run. “So…you didn’t say what kind of job—”

“What are your medical credentials?” Patrick cut across her, sipping his coffee.

Y/N remembered thinking that that was rude, and completely unprofessional for an interview. Of course, now that she actually knew Patrick, the action was completely in character.

“I’m a third-year nursing student at NYU Meyer.” She had answered, reaching into her bag to pull out her student ID. “And I’m trained in first aid.”

“You ever stitched somebody up before?”

Y/N frowned at the bluntness of the question. “Um, yes, but—”

“What about set broken bones? Noses?”

With an incredulous look on her face, Y/N had glanced around the coffee shop. Could anyone else hear this? When the answer to that question appeared to be no, she had leaned forward, unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice.

“Mr. Lawson, what exactly is this a job interview for?”

What it was for, it had turned out, was an underground boxing ring in the heart of New York. Patrick explained between sips of black coffee that he owns the gym that everyone fought in, and the business is growing. The only downside (the use of the word “only” had made the corners of Y/N’s mouth twitch—there was only one downside to an illegal boxing ring?) is that with no regulations, men get injured. A lot. And because the boxing is illegal, they can’t exactly keep going to the hospital…which was where Y/N comes in.

After seeing her student ID, her first-aid certifications, and testing her on the spot by having her look at a bandaged cut on his leg to see if it was infected (“It is.” Y/N had told him immediately), Patrick had hired Y/N on the spot. For three hundred dollars a night, she would be watching illegal boxing matches with a first-aid kit by her side. If anyone got injured too badly, they would bring them back to the locker rooms, where she would be waiting. There, she would bandage cuts, check for concussions, set broken bones, stitch people up with no anesthetic…

Y/N shudders as she looks at the gym door again, finally pulling herself from her thoughts. It’s definitely not an ideal situation—or even a moderately ideal situation— and she’s not looking forward to it in the least. But being a student in New York isn’t exactly cheap, and the money is good, even if it’s dirty. Really dirty. Probably bloody, from the fighters that she would be expected to stitch up from awful injuries—

“Don’t.” Y/N mutters to herself, taking a deep breath. “Everything is going to be okay. It’s fine. This is fine.”

“Hey, lady.” A man approaches her from behind, giving her a strange look—which is to be expected, Y/N thinks, seeing as how she’s talking to herself in the doorway of an underground gym. “Are you going to stare at the door all night, or are you going to open it?”

“Sorry.” She says sheepishly, stepping out of his way and allowing him to step around her down the stairs.

Knowing that there’s nowhere else to go but inside—and knowing that she can’t block the doorway forever—Y/N quickly makes her own way down the stairs and through the heavy doors.

Y/N isn’t exactly sure what she had expected an underground boxing gym to look like, but the room in front of her eyes pretty much meets her expectations. The gym is dark, with one bright light in the center hanging over the beaten-up ring. There are a few dark-coloured mats scattered around the ring, along with people getting ready to watch that night’s match. Everyone she sees, with their black clothing and leather boots and tough demeanors, looks like they belong at an illegal gym, whereas Y/N…she glances down at herself for a moment. Next time, she thinks, she’ll remember not to wear lavender.

Still, no matter how out of place she feels, she’s here now, and if university and nursing school had taught her anything, it was to act like she belonged until she did. With that in mind, Y/N holds her head up high, ignoring the stares of the gym patrons as she makes her way to the back hallway. Although she’s not exactly sure where Patrick’s office lies within the dark and claustrophobic gym, she feels that the more cigarette smoke she can smell in the air, the closer she’s getting.

Despite passing many identical doors with the same chipped and peeling paint, Y/N continues until she reaches the door at the end of the hallway. The black paint is scuffed, but in far better condition than any of the other doors around her, and Y/N can smell the cigarette smoke wafting out from the cracks beneath it.

“Patrick?” She knocks on the door softly, just in case she’s guessed wrong.

A rough but recognizable voice answers from the other side. “Yeah. Come in.”

With permission, Y/N opens the door, coughing a bit when a wall of cigarette smoke hits her. “Hi…?”

“Hey, Doc.” Patrick has a cigarette tucked between his lips as he speaks, and he hardly glances up at her from the papers in his hands. “How you doing?”

“I’m—I’m good.” Y/N says, her voice tinged with nerves. “I just wanted to check in before the match.”

“Good. Here.” Patrick stands up and walks to a cupboard in his office, pulling out a weathered leather case from within. “This has everything you should need in it.”

He hands the case to Y/N, and she opens it slowly, not entirely sure what Patrick is handing to her. Inside, she finds, is an assortment of medical supplies, all placed haphazardly inside the makeshift medical kit. Y/N roots around a bit with one hand, quickly taking stock of the contents. Bandages, antiseptics, not-yet-frozen cold compresses, painkillers, a stitch kit… “I’ll need all of this?” She asks, looking up at Patrick with a surprised look in her eyes.

“Look around you, Doc. This isn’t a daycare.” Patrick snorts, puffing on his cigarette. “We bare knuckle box. We don’t have personal physicians checking up on us, rules, regulations…this is about making money. And sometimes…it gets messy.”

“But if you needed a medical professional, then why didn’t you get someone who’s finished school?” Y/N asks as she shuts the case and clasps it closed. “They’d be a lot more experienced than a student.”

“Because medical professionals have a duty to report abuse to the cops.” Patrick shrugs as if the reasons are of little consequence to him. Which, Y/N thinks, they are. “You don’t. And students need the money more.”

Y/N purses her lips as she clutches the handle of the case tightly in her hand. “What happened to your last student?”

Patrick sighs with a flip of his hand, waving off the question. “He pissed off the wrong guy and went from being the doctor to being the patient. That’s why I hired a pretty lady this time.”

Y/N scoffs, the ease she had been beginning to feel around Patrick fading within a moment as she remembers where she is. She meets Patrick’s gaze with a harsh look. “Don’t patronize me, Patrick, or I’ll walk out that door right now.”

Patrick raises his hands defensively, an indifferent look on his face, and Y/N understands that it’s not an apology.

“Look, Doc, the last guy had a mouth on him. By all accounts, he deserved it.” Patrick walks back around to his desk, tapping his cigarette ash off into the glass ashtray that sits there, already half full. When he looks back up at Y/N, his gaze is softer than before, and Y/N can’t quite decipher the flicker she sees in his eyes. “I don’t mean to be patronizing. But if any guy in here says shit to you…lemme know. Got it?”

Y/N has a feeling that that’s as close to an apology as she’ll get from Patrick, so she nods tersely. “Got it.” Her attention turns back to the case in her hands. “So I just…wait by the ring?”

Patrick nods, tucking his cigarette back in his mouth as he sits back down at his desk, his thoughts moving back to the paperwork in front of him. “You got it. Watch the match. Have some fun, have a drink…if anything goes too wrong, I’ll pull you up to the ring. If everything is fine, you’ll come back to the locker room after the match to make sure my guys don’t have a concussion.”

“Sounds…good.” Y/N shifts the case around in her hands as she speaks, unsure of what else there is to say. “I’ll go to the audience, then.”

Patrick nods, but offers no other advice as she leaves. Not that Y/N expected it.

By the time Y/N makes it to her designated spot at the edge of the crowd, the gym is already filling with people who are buzzing about the fight. The smell of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and sweat is thick in the air, and after her third time of getting shoved by a man she doesn’t know, Y/N is wondering if sewing some medical patches onto her jean jacket will stop her from getting shoved at the next match. Of course, she’s not quite certain she’ll be attending the next match, but she makes the plans to do it nonetheless.

The area around the ring continues to pack itself full with people, and as Y/N stares at the spectators around her, she wonders just how much Patrick is making off this one fight. She’s not sure how much people have to pay to get in, but with at least two hundred people here, not including the money the spectators have put down on bets…Y/N’s certain Patrick will be coming away with a tidy sum.

As the crowd starts to scream, her attention shifts from the people around her to the one bare aisle leading to the ring, where the first fighter has begun walking out. He has a heavy build with broad shoulders, and Y/N knows he has to be over six feet. Top heavy, she thinks, as he climbs onto the edge of the ring and ducks his shaved head under the ropes. He raises his arms as the crowd cheers, apparently loving the attention, and spits to the side before his coach slides his mouth guard in for him.

Y/N wrinkles her nose as she watches the fighter display his muscles to the crowd, and at how much the crowd seems to love it.

There’s a crackle of static over the speakers as the announcer begins to speak. “As last year’s reigning champion, Adam Bowers is aiming to maintain his title this season.” The crowd cheers again as the fighter, Bowers, rolls out his shoulders.

“Those who watched him box last season know that getting this giant off his feet is a gargantuan task. Will his opponent be able to do it?”

The crowd jeers as the announcer mentions the opponent, and Y/N gets the feeling that they don’t think the other guy has a chance. When the other fighter begins to walk towards the ring, Y/N can’t help but agree.

This fighter’s build is much slimmer, despite the apparent muscle mass on his arms and legs. He’s more evenly built than Bowers, and while Y/N knows that will be helpful, she can’t make herself feel anything other than worry as she watches the fighter climb under the rings. He reaches up and fixes the neat bun keeping his brown hair away from his face, and although the crowd roars, Y/N can make out a look of focus and determination in his green eyes.

“Facing our champion is rookie Harry Styles. Despite beginning training just three months ago…”

Three months? Y/N bites her lip in concern, watching as Styles’ coach pulls him down to look him in the eye, giving him his mouth guard as he does. Y/N leans over to a man next to her, unable to stop herself from asking a question that’s at the forefront of her mind. “Don’t they use weight classes to match fighters?” She half yells the question over the cheers. “Bowers seems so much bigger than him!”

“This is illegal fighting, sweetheart.” The man laughs at her question as he takes a sip of his beer. The hair on the back of Y/N’s neck bristles at the pet name, and she once again reminds herself to keep her guard up as the man continues to speak.

“They don’t care about weight classes.” He says easily, nodding towards the ring. “They care about putting on a good show, so they can make money.”

Y/N turns her attention back to the ring, making sure to keep her distance from the other spectators. Styles is surveying the crowd now, and for just a moment, he locks eyes with her.

As his gaze meets hers, Y/N gets the impression that he’s sizing her up just as much as she’s sized him up. His eyes flick down her body and back up, but not in the way most men in the gym have been doing it. When the boxer’s eyes flick back to hers, Y/N doesn’t see a look of lust or desire reflected in his irises. Instead, she sees concern.

He’s about to fight a behemoth, she thinks, and he’s concerned because I’m in the crowd of the fight? The idea would make Y/N laugh, if she didn’t have a sneaking suspicion that she’d be setting his bones before the end of the night.

Styles’ finally looks away from her after a moment, centering himself again to be ready to fight. Y/N watches as he makes his way to the center of the ring, his gaze having to turn up to meet the eyes of Bowers. The bell rings, signalling the beginning of the match, and the loud ring makes Y/N flinch as she watches the two boxers begin to fight.

She had been right when she initially sized them up. Bowers is the first to throw a punch, all of his weight behind it, but Styles’ smaller stature allows him to duck easily, weaving out of the way from the first few strikes. As he ducks from a punch, Styles manages to land the first hit of the match, his fist connecting directly with Bowers’ jaw.

Y/N’s face lights up with surprise as the crowd cheers. However, the surprise quickly turns to worry as Bowers uses his anger to move faster, finally landing a blow on Styles. Not letting one hit deter him, the smaller boxer is quick to recuperate and keep himself in the moment. Already, Y/N can tell that he plays the long game, while Bowers seems to favour a more offensive stance.

As the match continues, Y/N’s concern turns to curiosity as she examines the fighting style of both boxers. Bowers is always the quickest to throw out punches, but Styles manages to dodge more punches than he receives, only standing still long enough to land his own hits on Bowers. The audience, while shocked by the proficiency of the rookie at first, begins to cheer loudly as their champion fights for a victory. The cheering only gets louder when blood splatters from Bowers’ nose to the floor of the ring.

Y/N winces, searching the crowd for Patrick’s familiar face. She finds him in the back, watching with his arms crossed, and raises an eyebrow in question as she catches his eye. He gives a quick shake of his head. This isn’t anything to worry about, the action says. Worse is coming.

The worse comes quickly, Y/N finds, as the groan of the crowd draws her attention back to the ring. Styles is doubled over now, presumably from a punch to the gut. Y/N watches in horrified silence as Bowers lands another punch on Styles’ jaw, knocking the smaller boxer onto his knees. However, the groan of the crowd quickly turns to a cheer as Styles pushes himself to stand once again, a grunt escaping his lips as he straights. Spitting the blood out of his mouth, he attacks Bowers again with a new energy, one wilder and more uncalculated than before.

The crowd roars louder as Styles pummels his opponent, and Y/N watches in shock as he knocks Bowers back in a daze. Styles hits him once, then again, and again, until Bowers goes down with a dull thud that echoes through the gym. He stays there, lying limp, as the referee begins to count, and doesn’t rise when Styles is declared the winner.

“Harry Styles has managed to begin his journey with a win!” The announcer yells, barely audible above the cheering crowd. Styles wipes his bleeding mouth with a shaky hand, a grin just beginning to tug at the corner of his mouth as the referee raises his hand in the air in victory.

The crowd continues to yell and cheer as people turn to those next to them, rehashing the match’s highlights. Y/N sees money change hands a few times, and while she wants to get out of the crowd that’s becoming rowdier by the minute, she’s not exactly sure where to go.

A hand on her elbow brings her from her thoughts, and Y/N whips around, cuss words hanging off the ends of her lips, ready to throw at whoever grabbed her. When she sees Patrick’s face, however, the words fade away, and she grabs the case that she’s all but forgotten is beside her as he begins to guide her back to the locker rooms.

“Time to get to work, Doc.” Patrick calls over the crowd, glancing over his shoulder at her to make sure she’s following.

Y/N nods silently, taking deep breaths to center herself for the task at hand. She can’t let herself be uncomfortable now; it’s time for her to work.

Patrick leads her through the crowd and down the hallway, taking a left turn towards the locker rooms. The echoes of someone groaning get louder and louder the closer they get, and as they walk inside the locker room, Y/N is certain she’ll find Styles sitting in front of her. Instead, her eyes settle on Bowers with a hand to his nose and his head tilted back.

“You need to lean forward.” Y/N says immediately, instinct taking over as she sits down next to Bowers while opening her case.

Bowers grunts, his eyes flicking to Y/N as he does. “I’m bleeding, sweetheart—”

“And leaning back is causing the blood to run down your throat. It’s harmful to your health, sweetheart.” Y/N counters in an icy tone, shooting him a glare before slipping on plastic gloves.

Patrick crosses his arms as he watches the exchange, a smirk making its way onto his face. “I’d watch my mouth if I were you, Bowers. Don’t piss off the person about to set your nose.”

Y/N glances at Patrick for a moment before turning back to Bowers. Although she’s still weary of him, Patrick seems to be the only one looking out for her in the gym, and she makes a note to bring it up with him after she finishes her work.

Upon examination, Y/N finds that Styles has broken Bowers’ nose, and gives him some pain medication and a cold compress before making a splint, setting it as best as she can in a gym locker room.

“There.” Y/N sits back and pulls off her bloody gloves. “That should be okay. Keep taking ibuprofen to help with the pain and swelling, and if it doesn’t seem to heal, try going to a real doctor. Alright?”

Bowers nods jerkily. Although she can see the doubt in his eyes, he doesn’t contradict her again. “Yeah. Alright.”

“What do you say to the Doc, Bowers?” Patrick prompts him, an expectant look on his face.

The boxer glares at her, but still manages to mutter a quick “thanks.”

Although it doesn’t seem sincere, Y/N doesn’t challenge it. “You’re welcome.” She replies curtly, closing her case before standing up again and turning to Patrick. “Where’s Styles?”

After washing her hands, Patrick leads Y/N down a corridor to another section of the locker room. Styles is sitting on the bench between the lockers, unwrapping the tape from his hands as his coach leans against the lockers while speaking to him. From the towel around his neck, wet curls hanging around his face, and damp chest, Y/N gathers that he showered after his victory. While her observations begin as professional, Y/N’s mind soon drifts to notice how the water droplets cling to his tattooed chest and arms, and how his fingers flex as he unwraps his tape. The clearing of his throat pulls her from her thoughts, and her eyes snap back up to his face as he speaks.

“Patrick.” The boxer’s voice is accented and low, and she sees recognition from earlier flicker across his phase. “Who’s this?”

“This is Doc Y/N.” Patrick lights a cigarette as he speaks, despite the disapproving look that Y/N gives him. “She’s the one who’s going to be saving your injured ass.”

“You can just call me Y/N.” Y/N rolls her eyes slightly as she refutes the nickname that, to her displeasure, Patrick’s already grown fond of before turning her attention back to Styles. “I’m just going to make sure you’re alright, Mr. Styles.”

When she addresses him, his coach laughs lightly, crossing his arms against his chest. Y/N looks at him with a raised eyebrow, her mouth open to ask about the laughter, when a voice cuts her off.

“No one’s ever called me Mr. Styles. Jeff seems to think it’s humorous.” A light chuckle escapes from the boxer, although his is more controlled than that of his coach. “You can call me Harry. Just Harry.”

Y/N nods as she sits next to him on the bench, opening up her medical kit and slipping on gloves. She has to focus at the task at hand. “Alright. How are you feeling?”

“’M fine.” Harry replies easily, running a hand through his wet curls. “Healthy as a horse.”

A snort leaves Jeff’s mouth at that comment. “A horse that got the shit beat out of him.” He turns his attention to Y/N with his next sentence. “He got hit pretty hard in the—”

“The ribs, yeah.” Y/N finishes the sentence for him, her eyes already examining the bruises developing on Harry’s abdomen with a keen eye. “I saw. Thought you were a goner.”

Harry shrugs a bit in response, seemingly unconcerned with the punches he sustained during the match. “I’ve had worse.”

“May I?” Y/N asks, extending a gloved hand. At Harry’s nod, she begins to press around his abdomen. “Can’t imagine much worse. You must’ve really pissed someone off, then.”

A laugh rumbles out from Harry’s chest at the comment, but a wince quickly replaces the expression of mirth on his face as his muscles contract. Although he quickly covers it, Y/N doesn’t miss it.

“Does that hurt?” She asks, pressing on his muscles again while gauging his reactions. “Where? Here?”

Harry clears his throat quietly, carefully controlling his expression as Jeff steps closer. “Uh, yeah. A bit. Just a bit sore.”

“Patrick,” Y/N glances over her shoulder at him before rummaging in her kit for the stethoscope she saw earlier. “Could you grab me a cold compress?”

Patrick leaves the locker room as Y/N presses the stethoscope to Harry’s chest and back, listening to his heartbeat and breathing. “Do you have any abdominal pain? Any shortness in breath, or dizziness?”

Harry shakes his head slightly. “No. None at all. I’m just sore.”

Y/N pulls the stethoscope from her ears and touches his jaw lightly, frowning at the purple bruise that’s blossomed under his pink skin. “You got hit pretty hard here.”

Harry’s jaw flexes under her touch as he chuckles. “I know. I was there.”

“Don’t be a smart ass, Harry.” Jeff chastises him from his position against the lockers.

“I’m not! I’m just saying—”

“She’s trying to help you—”

Y/N tunes out the argument between coach and boxer as she sets the stethoscope back down in the kit, making a note to bring her own next week. In fact, she can think of a few things that would be useful to add to the makeshift medical bag Patrick gave her—a manual blood pressure cuff, better suturing supplies, maybe some more bandages—

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” Jeff’s voice pulls Y/N from her thoughts just as Patrick enters the locker room again, the cold compress in hand. She accepts it from him before turning her attention back to the coach.

“Sorry, what was that?” She asks again, closing the medical kit.

“I asked if you thought Harry was being a smart ass.” Jeff gives a pointed look to his boxer. “And if he should apologize.”

Y/N shrugs as she hands the cold compress to Harry. “It’s fine. It’s definitely not the worst thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She turns her attention back to Harry, who’s frowning at her again, like he did when they first locked eyes in the ring. That look is back, too, she notices. The concern. Like the comment she made worries him.

Y/N clears her throat, pushing the thought out of her head. “You have some bruising and swelling, but nothing is broken. No internal bleeding, either. At least, nothing detectable.” She says with a sigh, pulling off her gloves. “I think you’re good to go, but if you start experiencing nausea, dizziness, or bleeding from any orifices, then you need to go to the doctor. A real one.”

Harry presses the compress against his swollen jaw, wincing as the cold makes contact with his flushed skin. “Are you not a real doctor?”

A laugh bubbles out from Y/N’s lips as she shakes her head. “I’d say I’m a half doctor at best.”

“The best half doctor this gym can buy.” Patrick chimes in, pausing after a moment. “Which, honestly, isn’t saying much, but…”

“Right.” Y/N tosses her gloves in the garbage can sitting against a locker. “So, again, if you start feeling strange, see a real doctor. One that’s actually licensed.”

Harry nods, standing up and extending a hand. “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it.”

It takes Y/N a moment to realize he wants to shake her hand. Once the realization hits her, she extends her hand cautiously, locking it with his in an awkward fashion. She prays it goes unnoticed by Harry, but judging from the laughter in his eyes, it hasn’t. Her own cheeks flush as she pulls her hand away.

“Of course. I’ll see you at your next match.” She says quickly, and escapes the locker room behind Patrick before she can say anything else.

Patrick brings Y/N back to his office, shutting the door behind them before going behind his desk and removing a cheap picture of a city off his wall, exposing the door of a safe. He opens it quickly and counts out three hundred dollars in cash before slipping it into an envelope for Y/N. “Here, Doc. You did good tonight.”

Y/N had almost forgotten that she’s doing this for cash. “Thanks.” She takes the money from him, tucking it inside her jacket. “I’m just glad I didn’t need to stitch anyone up.”

Patrick laughs as he lights a fresh cigarette, sitting down at his desk chair as he puffs on it. “This time.”

“Yeah. This time.” Y/N eyes the cigarette with distaste. “Smoking kills, you know.”

Patrick glances at her with an incredulous look on his face, unfazed. “I run an illegal boxing ring. Do you think I care?” He exhales smoke slowly. “I got more to worry about killing me than smoking.”

Y/N shifts her weight from one foot to another as a band of anxiety twists its way through her stomach. “Do I have to worry about that, too?”

“Nah.” Patrick waves his hand indifferently, clearly unconcerned. “No one cares about a nursing student with a few bandages and some ice packs.”

“Right.” Y/N says slowly. Her previous hesitancy about her security at the gym returns, and although she tries to hide it, she knows it’s written all over her face.

Patrick’s keen eyes notice right away. “That’s a good thing, Y/N.” For the first time that night, he uses her name to address her. “Trust me, you want to go unnoticed here.”

“Do I?” Y/N pauses in front of the door, her hand resting on the handle.

“Yeah. You do.” Patrick taps the ash off his cigarette as he gives her a long look. “I know you noticed how…different you are from our regular visitors.”

“You mean how I’m not a gigantic man dressed in all leather who enjoys making sexist comments towards women?” Y/N’s voice drips with sarcasm as she rolls her eyes. “Believe me. I noticed.”

“You want to go unnoticed here.” Patrick says again, firmer this time. “Dress in darker clothes. Blend in more. No good men spend their time here. Not one. Understood?”

The serious tone in Patrick’s voice causes a chill to run down Y/N’s back, and her hand tightens on the handle of the door. She doesn’t doubt what he’s saying; she already had her suspicions that she’d need to do more to blend into the crowd next week. But being directly warned about the danger she’s putting herself in gives her pause.

“You seem like a good kid, and I’ll do my best to make sure no one fucks with you. But you have to be watching your own back, too.” Patrick takes a long puff of his cigarette. “I got enough shit on my plate without keeping tabs on you.”

“Got it.” Y/N nods sharply, her fingernails digging into her palm as she steadies herself. “Blend in. Watch my own back. Go unnoticed. Understood.”

…

“So how’s the new job?”

Y/N’s eyes snap up at her friend’s question as her grip on her beer bottle tightens just the slightest bit. The bar around them is loud, filled with the sound of obnoxious, half-drunk laughter and bad music, and Y/N hopes that the ambient noise is enough cover for her to pretend that she didn’t hear the question.

“What, Sadie?” She leans closer as her mind searches for a plausible answer. “What did you say?”

Sadie leans across the table, perfectly unaware of how her question has increased her friend’s heart rate. “I asked you how your new job is.”

“Oh.” Y/N brings the lip of her bottle to her mouth, taking a sip to prolong her pause. “It’s good, yeah. Pretty good.”

“Where is it again?” Sadie asks, settling back down in her seat comfortable. “Some gym?”

“Yeah, I just—I’m doing some first-aid lessons there. For their trainers.” Y/N says quickly, attempting to keep her voice even. Lying has never been her strong suit, especially to her friends. “You know, basic stuff, but it pays well.”

“That’s good!” Sadie replies in an encouraging voice. “That’ll be good for you.”

“Yeah, it’s good so far.” Y/N nods, her fingers tapping anxiously against her beer bottle. “So…” Her mind searches for another topic of discussion. “Tell me more about that guy you’ve been seeing. Peter?”

As Sadie begins to rehash the events of her last date with a man from Tinder, Y/N’s mind begins to wander to the real answer to her friend’s question. How was her new job going?

It’s certainly…going, she thinks, nodding absentmindedly at something Sadie says. It didn’t ever seem to stop going. Every Saturday brings a new crisis for her to handle. Within her first month of working at Patrick’s gym, she’s reset multiple noses, splinted fingers, bandaged knuckles, stitched lips and foreheads, and—Y/N suppresses a shudder—popped a dislocated shoulder back into a boxer’s shoulder socket.

When Patrick told her that the job would be messy, Y/N had assumed that he was overexaggerating, but she’s found herself repairing every single boxer at the gym in some way, shape, or form over the last month.

Every boxer except Harry, that is.

Y/N’s not sure if there’s some sort of guardian angel looking out for him, or if he’s really just that lucky, but so far, the worst injury she’s had to help him with is a bloody nose. Despite being the busiest boxer at the gym, with fights every week, Harry’s managed to evade any broken or dislocated bones. He hasn’t even so much as pulled a muscle.

Although Y/N’s happy that she has one less patient to deal with every week, his winning streak is starting to make her nervous. Whenever Harry steps into the ring, he’s cool, calm, and collected, but Y/N’s seen too much in life to ignore the rule that what goes up must come down. She has a bad feeling that the higher Harry’s luck pushes him, the harder he’ll fall. And when he does, it’ll be her job to put him together again.

“…And I just don’t know what it means.” Sadie pushes her phone in front of Y/N, pulling her from her thoughts. “I mean, who sends the wheat emoji? Is he a farmer? How do I respond to that?”

“Tell him he can plow your crops.” Y/N replies easily, shifting her attention back to her friend. “But only if he wears overalls.”

Sadie rolls her eyes as she pulls her phone back. “Haha. Maybe it’s a weird vegan thing. Do vegans have codes?”

“How the fuck would I know?” Y/N snorts before taking a swig from her beer bottle. “And I thought he was keto?”

“He was, until two weeks ago.”

“Well, even if vegans do have codes, I doubt two weeks is long enough to learn them.” Y/N stands from her seat. “I’m going to grab another beer; do you want a refill?”

Sadie shakes her head, her attention already turned back to her text messages with Peter.

Y/N pushes her way through the crowd until she reaches the bar, carefully working her way in between the bodies of intoxicated New Yorkers. She waits patiently next to a group of a few men until the bartender acknowledges her while her mind drifts to the assignment she has due next week that, really, she should be at home working on.

The bartender stops in front of her, wiping his hands on the towel over his shoulder. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have another Budweiser.” Y/N says, reaching for her back pocket for her phone. “It’ll be on debit—”

“Actually—” The body next to her turns at the sound of her voice. “You can put it on my tab. And add another scotch and soda to the order, as well.”

The bartender nods, but Y/N huffs under her breath, pushing her hair out of her face as she prepares the speech that she always hopes she won’t have to use. “That’s very kind of you, but—Harry?”

The green eyed boxer peers down at her, a charming grin playing on his red lips. His long hair is down and flowing, curling around his defined shoulders and collarbones that peak out of his loose, half unbuttoned shirt. One arm hangs loosely at his side as the other clutches an empty glass, rings clicking as he taps his fingers against it. His tongue swipes his lips once before he speaks, making them impossibly redder.

“’M surprised to see you here.” Harry’s voice is as low as it ever is, even in the noise of the club. “I didn’t think dive bars would be your scene.”

Y/N scoffs as she straightens her back, trying to make herself a better match for Harry’s height. “As opposed to what, sleazy underground gyms?”

“Hm. That’s true.” An amused look paints its way onto Harry’s features as he sets his empty glass down on the bar. “Are you here alone? Or did a date bring you here?”

“A friend, actually.” Y/N motions over her shoulder to Sadie, who’s still wrapped up in her messages with Peter. “I’ve never been here before, but she really likes it.”

“Yeah?” Harry’s grin slowly grows as he leans against the edge of the bar. “How are you liking it so far?”

Y/N lifts her shoulders slightly in a small shrug. “It’s alright. Not much different than any other bar in New York. A beer is a beer anywhere, right?”

“That’s your mistake, though.” Harry sighs a bit as his eyes train on something over Y/N’s shoulder. He reaches past her, his warm, tanned arm brushing against the bare skin of her shoulder. It brushes against her again when he moves his arm back, this time with an open beer bottle and scotch and soda in hand, and Y/N’s not sure what’s worse: how good Harry’s skin feels against hers, or the fact that his hands are so large that he can easily carry two drinks in them without spilling a drop.

“My mistake?” Y/N’s successful in keeping her voice steady—just barely—as she takes the bottle from him. “What mistake?”

“Ordering a bottle of beer wherever you go.” Harry’s ringed hand wraps around the cold glass of scotch. “Let me pick the next drink I buy you, yeah? Then you’ll be able to see if you really like this bar or not.”

“Um—” It takes Y/N a moment to process what he says, and when it finally hits her, she feels heat rush to her cheeks faster than it ever has before. Her mouth opens and closes for a moment, and it takes the charming smile on Harry’s face changing to a grin of satisfaction at her reaction for her to snap out of her stupor.

“I don’t need you to buy me drinks.” Y/N says firmly, setting her beer bottle down on the counter. “I can buy my own. Thank you, though.”

“Wait—” Harry’s arm touches her wrist lightly as she turns around, pulling her attention back to him. His satisfied grin has slipped into a look of apology. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that in—that sounded worse than I meant it to. I know you can buy your own drinks, I just—I meant it as a thank you.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow as she looks him up and down. The difference in his demeanor compared to a moment ago is noticeable—his shoulders have curled in slightly, making his body appear smaller, and his brows are knit together in a look of worry. His teeth are tugging on his lower lip as he waits for her response, and it’s not until noticing his lips that Y/N realizes she hasn’t responded.

“A thank you for what?” Y/N asks, surprise evident in her voice. Although Harry’s let go of her wrist, she still feels a stinging in the skin there, and wraps her own hand around the area he touched.

Harry’s free hand grazes his abdomen, just over his ribs, where Y/N knows there’s a bruise from a fight the previous week. “For cleaning me up all the time.”

Y/N waves off his comment with a flip of her hand. “You don’t need to thank me for that. It’s my job. Literally.”

“I know, but—” A man pushes his way to the bar, breaking into the space between Y/N and Harry. Harry grabs the beer bottle off the bar counter before the man can spill it, a darkening look in his eyes as he steps around the (clearly intoxicated) man to stand before Y/N again. “I can’t imagine it’s easy. I’ve seen how the men there treat you.”

Y/N straightens her spine even more, her mouth pressing into a tight line. The last thing she needs is Harry’s pity. “I made the choice to take the job. I knew what the environment would be like. I don’t need you feeling like you have to be the good guy and buy me drinks to make up for the assholes at the gym.”

“No, that’s not—” Harry shakes his head quickly. “That’s not what I meant, Y/N—” She hates the flutter she feels in her core when she hears her name in his accent. “I’m just concerned—”

“I didn’t ask for you to be concerned!” Y/N replies hotly, her arms crossing tightly over her body. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Sadie begin to notice the interaction between herself and Harry, and she knows she’s going to be interrogated the moment she gets back to the table.

“I know that!” Harry defends himself, his face growing more agitated as their conversation continues. “I can’t help it—”

“Why? Because I’m a girl surrounded by big tough guys? Because I obviously need protecting? Because I can’t protect myself?” Although she’s aware that her frustration is only partly aimed at Harry, and is mostly the product of the emotions she’s kept locked inside her over the last month, Y/N can’t make herself stop.

“No.” Harry’s eyes drop down from her sharp gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that.”

Y/N feels a twinge of guilt when she sees the brightness fade from Harry’s eyes, but she doesn’t shift her position. “I appreciate the thanks, and the drink. But I don’t need your pity, your concern, or your protection.”

“Alright.” Harry nods once as his eyes snap up to meet hers again. He has the same calm and collected look that Y/N usually sees reflected in his jade irises before a match. “I understand.”

“Good.” Y/N’s fingers twist around each other as she considers what else to say. Nothing else really seems worth saying, so instead she focuses on a goodbye. “I’ll see you next Saturday, then.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods again, and Y/N moves to step away, but Harry’s hand catches her one more time. Y/N’s eyes find his face in confusion, and her whole body jumps as she feels the cool glass of the beer bottle press into her palm.

“Take that with you.” Harry’s voice is rough, unreadable. “It’s not safe to leave your drinks unattended.”

…

Now that she’s spent the last five Saturdays working at Patrick’s gym, Y/N’s fallen into a comfortable routine—or at least, as comfortable as she can be in an environment filled exclusively by men with anger issues and no morals. Every Saturday morning, she gets up around nine A.M. and lounges around for a while, just reading her phone in bed. Once she actually makes it out of bed, she showers, taking the time she doesn’t normally have on university mornings to wash her hair, shave anything that she thinks needs shaving, and just enjoy the hot water on her skin. After her shower, Y/N gets dressed in whatever the day’s activity calls for. Sometimes she stays in all day, just studying and catching up on readings, while other times she has errands to run, or friends to meet for brunch at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that charges seventeen dollars for avocado toast. Whatever the day brings, however, her evening routine is always the same.

Y/N sets her dinner plate in the kitchen sink before grabbing her jean jacket from the back of her kitchen chair. She slips it over her black t-shirt, which is tucked into her dark jeans, before grabbing her heavy black boots from the closet. After her first week, Y/N realized the key to being comfortable at her new job was dark clothing and protective footwear, as drunk men placing bets on illegal fights seemed to have a habit of stepping on her toes—literally. Y/N found that it was best to take protective measures against the shoving of the crowds, as stitching paramedic patches onto the sleeves of her jean jacket hadn’t done any good.

With one final check to make sure her good stethoscope and manual blood pressure pump is in her bag, Y/N sets out for the gym, arriving at 9 P.M. on the dot. Although the match doesn’t start until 10, she likes to get there early and check in with Patrick. They’ve begun to develop a rapport over the last few weeks, and Y/N finds herself looking forward to her talks with the surly gym owner.

Y/N doesn’t blink when she enters the dark gym now, and instead keeps her gaze aimed straight ahead as she makes her way to Patrick’s office, knocking on the door thrice in quick succession.

“Yeah?” His voice calls out roughly from behind the door. Y/N opens and shuts it behind her, managing to take one last gasp of clean air before being confronted with the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

“Evening, Doc.” Patrick leans back in his desk chair, the usual cigarette between his lips. “How are things looking out there?”

“The gym is already half full, and the fight isn’t for another hour.” Y/N takes a seat across from the desk as Patrick reaches under it, opening the minifridge he has stashed away and pulling out a beer for each of them. Y/N accepts the bottle, opening it on the edge of his desk before continuing. “You’re getting famous.”

“I’m not getting famous; Styles is.” Patrick stubs out his cigarette before opening his own bottle. “He’s going on five weeks undefeated in his first season. That’s never been done before.”

Y/N scratches at the label of her beer with her fingernail while her teeth tug on her bottom lip. “What’s his story, anyways?” She asks after a moment, unable to hold back her curiosity any longer. “How did he end up here?”

Patrick takes a swig of beer, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “I don’t know how he ended up here, but I assume it’s for the same reason anyone ever does, including you. The money.” Patrick shrugs a bit. “As for his story at the gym…he knocked on my office door seven months ago, saying he wanted to get into boxing. He had a bit of muscle, yeah, but nothing like he has now. He just sounded like some posh boarding school kid, so I sent him packing. But he was adamant. Wouldn’t give up. Kept coming back, over and over.” Patrick snorts, shaking his head at the memory. “Finally, I told him to start training and bulking up just to get him off my back. And then he came back the next day with his coach, Jeff, and spent hours working every drill imaginable. I have to admit, it impressed me. So I gave him a trial match, the first night you worked. You remember how that went, don’t you?”

Y/N thinks back to the blood spurting from Bowers’ nose after Harry broke it. “Yeah. I do.”

“He’s a strange guy. Pretty different from any other boxer here. But he’s bringing in cash, and lots of it, so I don’t give a shit.” Patrick takes another sip of beer, his eyes focusing on Y/N’s untouched bottle. “You better drink that, Doc. I don’t like wasting beer.”

Y/N lifts the bottle to her mouth automatically, but doesn’t register the taste of the liquid as it passes her lips. “I’m pretty sure rule number one of nursing is not drinking before a shift.”

“That’s some bullshit hospital rule, not mine.” Patrick gives an unconcerned wave of his hand. “Besides, I think the alcohol steadies your hands a bit. Liquid courage and all that.”

Y/N raises the bottle in her hand, tilting it towards Patrick with a wry grin. “To liquid courage.”

…

“You should consider telling Harry to reign it in, Patrick.” Y/N carefully slips off her bloodied gloves, tossing them in the locker room garbage. “That’s the third nose he’s broken in the last month!”

“Why would he need to reign it in?” Patrick raises an eyebrow, leaning against the lockers as Y/N washes her hands. “Do you know how much money he’s making me? The crowd goes crazy for blood!”

Y/N shakes off her wet hands, quickly drying them on a paper towel before taking her medical kit back from Patrick. The bag feels heavier in her hand than it did earlier. “At this rate, you’re going to be out of boxers before the month is over.”

“I can always get new fighters, Doc.” Patrick sniffs, rubbing his nose while leading Y/N to the other locker room. He still comes with her to check on the boxers, despite her knowing the drill by now. Deep down, Y/N appreciates it. “A new champion, on the other hand…those are rare.”

“Are they?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as Patrick steps back, letting her step into the room first. “I’m surprised this champion hasn’t worn himself out yet.”

Harry’s eyes snap up at the sound of her voice. He’s in his usual spot on the bench, his hands already unwrapped and his body already clean from his shower. Y/N wishes she could say that the sight of Harry’s damp and tattooed chest doesn’t have an affect on her anymore, but as she takes in the sight of him, her eyes are only half scanning his body for injuries. The other half of her, to her displeasure, is focused on how his muscles flex under the harsh artificial light as he takes a drink from his water bottle.

Patrick laughs once as Y/N takes a seat next to Harry, opening her medical kit. “Jeff, you’ll never guess what Doc Y/N thinks.” Patrick approaches the coach with a smirk on his face. “She wants Harry to reign it in. Says he’s too harsh in the ring.”

Jeff’s laughter matches Patrick’s, and Y/N feels a flush come over her face as she searches for clean gloves. She does her best to keep her gaze down and keep her focus on her work, but when she looks up, the look on Harry’s face makes her mind go completely blank.

Although Jeff and Patrick are snickering at her comment, Harry’s face is as unreadable as ever. There’s no amusement in his deep green eyes, nor is there a grin on his pink lips. Instead, there’s just a small crease between his brows as he meets her gaze, and Y/N can hardly fight back the urge to lean forward and press her lips to the worried spot.

She had been afraid that seeing Harry for the first time since their bar dispute would throw her, and it only takes one look in his eyes to know her anxiety has a solid foundation of reason underneath it.

“You think I’m too harsh?” The corners of his lips turn down the slightest bit as he speaks, and Y/N has to tell herself that she has no right to notice such a slight difference as quickly as she does.

With a slight shake of her head, Y/N begins to press around Harry’s side, where she had watched him sustain most of his opponent’s hits in the match. “I’m the one who cleans up your messes, remember?” She keeps her voice quiet, so she can hear any noises he makes as she presses on his muscles. “Is this sore?”

“Not more than usual.” Harry replies in the same quiet tone, his eyes glued to her movements. Y/N can feel his irises burning into her skin, and tries her best to ignore how the attention makes her feel. She almost forgets that they’re not alone in the locker room until Patrick speaks.

“Jeff and I have to discuss some things for next week’s match.” He says, speaking more to Y/N than Harry. “Are you alright here, Doc?”

Y/N understands the tone underneath his question. Patrick wants to know if she’s alright being left alone with a boxer who just proved himself capable, once again, of breaking bones. If it was anyone else, Y/N would shake her head and say she needs him to stay. With Harry, however, Y/N’s not afraid of what he can do to her. If anything, she’s concerned about what she may do to him.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Y/N gives a slight nod to Patrick as she pulls out her stethoscope. “I won’t be much longer.”

“Alright.” Patrick gives one hardened look to Harry before following Jeff out of the locker rooms, leaving behind only the smell of his cigarette to mix with the locker room air.

Silence sits between the two of them for a moment, until Y/N fixes the stethoscope in her ears. “This may be a bit cold.” She warns, setting the device on his chest. She listens for a moment before moving it to his back. “Breathe in for me?”

Harry’s ribs expand underneath her fingers as he inhales deeply, exhaling just as slow.

“Again.” Y/N says, moving her stethoscope. Even through her gloves, she can feel the heat radiating off his skin, and briefly wonders if she should take his temperature before deciding that there’s no need. Harry is just…warm.

Y/N pulls her stethoscope out of her ears and sets it down in her bag, reaching instead for some wipes. “There’s a bit of blood under your nose still.” She pulls out a wipe and gently rubs it over the affected skin. “But your nose isn’t broken.”

Harry’s hands fiddle in his lap as she cleans him up, shifting and wincing every once in a while. “I don’t mean to break noses, you know.” He says after a moment. “I mean, I do, kind of, but it’s just—I’m fighting to win.”

“I know.” Y/N tosses the used wipe in the trash, her fingers still moving gently over his cheek. A black eye is beginning to develop under his left eye, so she reaches in her kit for her penlight. She flicks it on and holds up a finger with her other hand. “Follow my finger with your eyes, will you?”

Harry does as she asks, passing the simple test with ease. “We’re all fighting to win. I just happen to be better at it than the others.”

The corner of Y/N’s lip twitches as she turns off the penlight, swapping it in favour of a cold compress she can press to Harry’s bruised eye. “I suppose you are.” Harry winces as the compress makes contact with his eye, and Y/N sighs. “Sorry.”

“S’alright.” Harry says immediately, voice low.

Once again, the conversation dies out in favour of silence. As Y/N holds the compress to Harry’s eye, she wonders if he’s been thinking of their conversation in the bar as much as she has. She wonders if he’s been thinking of their conversation in the bar at all. As much as she dislikes how much Harry’s been occupying her thoughts, she dislikes the idea of her occupying none of his even more.

“So…” Y/N clears her throat quietly. “Patrick told me this is your first season, right?”

Harry jerks his head in a slight nod. “It is.”

When he offers no more information, Y/N asks another question. “What made you want to start?”

Harry’s uncovered eye meets hers, just for a moment, before looking down at his calloused hands. “I needed some extra cash, and I’m a good fighter. Figured I’d put it to use.”

Y/N can sense more of a story behind his words, but she can also tell by his demeanor that he’s not in the sharing mood. Instead of prying more, she just nods and takes his hand, pressing it over her hand and the cold compress. She gives herself a split second to enjoy his hand on hers before pulling her own hand away.

She stands up slowly as she snaps off her gloves, tossing them in the garbage. “Take some Ibuprofen if you have any pain, and again, if you start to feel weird—”

“See an actual doctor.” Harry finishes the sentence for her with a small smile. “Because you’re not one.”

“Exactly.” Y/N clicks the medical kit closed. “Now you get it.”

“So what are you then, if not an actual doctor?” Harry asks, leaning back on the bench to look up at her better. “What made you start here?”

Y/N pauses by the lockers, surprised he’s inquiring about her life. “I’m a nursing student at NYU. I’m here because I was the only one dumb enough to answer Patrick’s ad, apparently.”

A chuckle rolls out of Harry’s body, and Y/N watches as she tries to hide the wince caused by his abdomen contracting. “Are you—?” She begins to step closer, but Harry waves off her concern.

“I’m fine.” He insists. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Right.” Y/N gives him a confused look. “What was the subject, again?”

“You. Your life.” Harry shifts the cold compress to his other hand, flexing his cold fingers to get blood circulating. Y/N watches the movement for a moment before forcing herself to meet his eyes again.

“What about my life?” She asks, just a hint of breathlessness detectable in her voice.

Harry shrugs with one shoulder as he stands, making his way to the locker next to Y/N. He opens it quickly, grabbing a t-shirt from within and smoothly pulls it on with one hand. The fabric settles over his muscles nicely. “I don’t know. I’m just curious.”

Y/N’s brow furrows as she takes in his words. “Okay, but…no offence, Harry, I just—I don’t think it’s very wise of me to tell you too much about my life.”

Harry’s mouth twitches down into a frown as he grabs his leather jacket from the locker, shutting it with a bang that echoes around the empty locker room. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not safe?” Y/N knows her words are true, but her infliction makes it sound like a question, and Harry proves himself eager to answer it.

“It’s not?” Harry glances around the locker room slowly, gesturing to the empty space. “Who else is here?”

“Just you, but I—that’s part of the reason.” Y/N speaks steadily and carefully, as if to make Harry understand, but the words are as much a reminder for herself as they are for him. “You shouldn’t know about my life. About me. At least, not any more than you need to.”

That unreadable look crosses over Harry’s face again, clouding his green irises in mystery. His free hand combs through his long hair, still damp from his shower, as his teeth worry his bottom lip. “Who decides what I need to know?”

Y/N tightens her grip on the medical kit, the feel of the rough leather acting as a reminder for where she is and who she’s with. “I do.” She murmurs. “I decide.”

Harry nods roughly once, jerking his chin up as he takes the cold compress off his eye. The bruise is darker now, staining his pale skin, but he hands the compress back to her. “Alright, then. Thanks for clearing that up.”

From the tone of his voice, Y/N gets the sense that he’s bothered by what she said, but she doesn’t let herself focus on it. Harry’s is a grown man, and if he has an issue with what she’s saying, he can tell her. It’s not her job to coddle him and drag his feelings out.

Y/N matches his tone of voice, looking him straight in the eye as she replies. “You’re welcome.”

…

When Y/N’s phone rings three weeks later with an unknown number flashing on the screen just past midnight on a Thursday, she almost doesn’t answer it. After a day of consecutive classes and working through tutorials and labs until her mind went numb, she can’t handle dealing with a telemarketer in a different time zone. However, the New York area code catches her eye, and her curiosity gets the best of her as she picks up her phone and taps the screen.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?” Harry’s familiar accent crackles through her speaker, half drowned out from the sound of yelling and New York traffic.

“Harry?” Y/N sits up on her couch so fast that she almost spills her tea. “What—how did you get my number?”

“Texted Patrick for it.” Harry’s voice drifts further away, and Y/N can’t make out what he’s saying.

“What?” She presses the phone closer to her ear in an attempt to hear him. “I can’t understand, Harry—”

“What’s your address?” Harry repeats again, his voice finally audible. “It’s in Tribeca, right?”

Y/N sets down her tea with a thud. “I—yeah, but—”

“Just text it to me, please.” Harry asks, his voice low and strained. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“But—”

The line clicks dead.

Y/N stares down in her phone in shock for a moment before adding Harry’s number to her contacts and texting him her address. She’s not sure why she does it without question—she should be concerned that he’s coming for a negative reason, she thinks, but something in his voice over the phone…there was something there that she’d never heard before.

A knock comes to her door eight minutes later, after Y/N’s bustled around her tiny studio apartment to tidy it up. She’s normally a clean person, but had to toss some clothes in her hamper, put her mug in the sink, and, three seconds before the knock came, tossed her old teddy bear under her bed.

When Y/N opens the door, she’s not entirely sure what she’s expecting, but she knows for sure it isn’t this.

Harry is slumped against your door frame, his right hand cradled to his chest by his left arm. There’s a dark liquid splattered on his navy blue shirt, and it takes Y/N a second to register that it’s blood, not alcohol, despite his body reeking of liquor. His curls, which are normally so soft and carefully tied back, are falling into his eyes as he struggles to keep himself upright. Bruises are already blossoming along his jaw, there’s a split in the skin next to his eyebrow, and a frightening amount of blood trailing down his cheek like tears. A sheen of sweat covers his face and neck, and when he looks at Y/N, she can see the moment it takes him to register that it’s her he’s looking at.

“Oh my God—” Y/N grabs his shoulders quickly, leading him into the apartment. She can tell he’s trying his best to walk independently, but half his body weight is being pressed into her while she struggles to lead him to the couch.

A groan escapes Harry’s lips as he flops onto the couch, low and weak and a complete knife in Y/N’s chest. Normally, when she sees someone this injured, she goes straight into nurse mode, examining them without emotion, but there’s something about the way Harry’s chest is rapidly rising and falling that’s preventing her from doing that.

“Harry—I—” She pushes his curls back from his face, and is horrified to find blood on her hand when she pulls it back. “What happened?”

“I—” The words struggle to make it past his pale lips as he takes a shuddering breath. “I got into a fight. At the bar.”

The answer is so simple, so common, and yet it shocks Y/N that she pauses mid-step on her way to get her medical kit. “A bar fight? This is from a bar fight?”

Harry nods once as he winces. “Had a few—few too many. Got into an argument.” He grits his teeth as he does his best to take his jacket off. “Christ—”

“Stop.” Y/N sets her medical kit down on the coffee table, reaching over and carefully helping him remove his jacket. Her curiosity is raging inside her—what could have irritated Harry so much that he would fight in a bar? And, even more pressing, what could have irritated him so much that he would lose? “So you can only box while sober, huh?”

“Yeah.” Harry mutters the word, a tinge of shame echoing in the back of his voice. “Apparently.”

Y/N tosses his jacket to the ground once it’s off, her eyes canvassing over Harry’s body. There’s so much that seems wrong that she doesn’t even know where to start. “Okay, just—what hurts? What happened?”

“The bastard got a few good shots in at my head. Split my eyebrow, but that’s about it.” Harry sucks in a sharp breath as he hears you snap on your disposable gloves. “But I—shit—I fucked up my hand, Y/N. I threw a bad punch and—fuck—”

Y/N carefully takes Harry’s injured hand in her own, examining it closely. A few of his knuckles are split and dripping blood down his pale skin. His calloused fingers are bruised, swelling over the rings he’s wearing, and Y/N knows that those have to be the first things to go. She takes one of her decorative pillows and sets it on Harry’s lap, setting his injured hand on top of it before quickly moving to her fridge. She grabs an ice pack from the freezer and wraps it in a tea towel, tucking it under her arm as her eyes scan her apartment for something to help her get his rings off. Only one thing comes to her mind, and Y/N tries to control the blood rushing to her cheeks as she opens her bedside drawer and grabs the lube she keeps stashed there.

When Harry sees it in her hand, he raises an eyebrow for a split second until the pain of the cut catches him off guard.

“What—” He takes a deep breath as she settles next to him, carefully setting the ice pack underneath his hand. “What’s the KY for?”

Y/N attempts to keep her voice steady as she answers. “You’re wearing two rings. We have to get them off before your fingers swell any more.” She pops the seal of the lube open and pours a liberal amount over Harry’s fingers. “This—this is going to hurt, so just—I’m sorry.”

Harry nods once, his eyes closed as his head jerks in response. “Just do it.”

Although she does her best to be gentle, Y/N can feel Harry’s body tensing as she pulls the rings over his bruised fingers. No words leave his lips, but she can tell that he’s gritting his teeth to keep quiet as she works the two rings off.

“Good. Good job.” She sets the lube-covered rings on her coffee table with a clink. “That was the worst of it, I think. Or I hope, at least.”

A huff of liquor scented air passes through Harry’s lips. “Is it broken?”

Y/N gingerly picks up Harry’s hand, moving his fingers as much as she can, feeling for anything out of place. “I don’t think so, no.” She murmurs in a quiet voice. “Just sprained, I think. Your index and middle finger got it the worst, but I’m fairly certain they’re not fractured.”

“Fairly certain?” Harry asks, jaw tense. “How could we be 100% certain?”

“If we went to an actual hospital and got an X-ray.” Y/N shoots back, giving him a harsh look. “But seeing as how you’re here, I assume that’s something you don’t want to do.”

Harry exhales hard as she cleans his hand with a wipe. “No. It’s not.”

Once his hand is clean, Y/N wraps it in a bandage carefully, setting it back down on the ice pack once the bandage is secure. With his hand taken care of, she turns her attention to Harry’s face. The cut in his brow has stopped bleeding now, enough for Y/N to see that it’s not horribly deep. “I don’t need to stitch it.” She tells him as she grabs a cotton pad and rubbing alcohol. “I just need to clean it and then bandage it.”

Harry winces when she presses the alcohol soaked pad to the cut.

“Sorry.” Y/N mumbles, her eyes trained on the split skin next to his eyebrow.

“S’alright, I’ll manage.” Harry matches her mumble, his voice barely audible in the quiet living room. She can feel the heat of his skin pressed against her hand, and just when she’s thinking that there’s no way that her icy skin can feel pleasant, Harry sighs.

“Your hands are cold.” He murmurs, his uninjured hand touching the hand that’s cupping his jaw to keep him steady. “It’s nice. Feels like a million degrees in here.”

Y/N resists the urge to pull her hand away from his, keeping all her focus on applying the bandage to his eyebrow like it’s a monumentally difficult task. She waits until she’s smoothed the beige cover over his skin to respond. “Probably because you’re so sweaty.” She presses her other hand to his forehead, doing her best to ignore how another sigh slips past Harry’s lips. “I hope you don’t have a fever…”

“’M just warm, that’s all.” His words are less slurred than they had been when he first arrived, and his green eyes are just starting to open again. “The bar was hot.”

Y/N pulls her hand away from his forehead. “Right.” She walks the three steps it takes her to get to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “Here.” She hands it to Harry, along with two ibuprofen pills from her medical kit. “Swallow these, and then drink that entire glass of water.”

“You got it, Doc.” Harry murmurs, following her instructions immediately. Y/N rolls her eyes as she takes a seat next to him again, carefully readjusting the ice pack on his injured hand.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” She asks in a tired voice. Harry’s hair is falling into his eyes, she notices, and she doesn’t even think before she slips her hair tie off her wrist to carefully pull his curls into a bun on top of his head.

Harry doesn’t complain. “Patrick calls you Doc,” is the only thing he says.

“That’s because Patrick is…Patrick.” Y/N settles back into the couch as she watches Harry drink the water. “Why didn’t you call him for my address instead of my number? You could’ve been here quicker.”

“I did.” Harry swallows down another gulp of water, his good hand wiping his mouth gingerly. “He told me to ask you myself. Said he wouldn’t give your address out to creeps.”

A rush of affection flows through Y/N’s heart for the tough gym owner. “That’s good to know.”

“It is.” Harry agrees after another drink of water. Once he’s drained it, Y/N takes the glass from him and sets it on the coffee table.

“Thank you.” Harry murmurs gratefully. “For…everything tonight. I really—I appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s my—”

“No, Y/N. This isn’t your job.” Harry looks at her intensely, a sincerity on his face that she’s never seen before, or at the very least, never noticed before. “Bandaging my hand and head at one A.M. in your apartment isn’t your job. I know you—you said you didn’t want me to know things about you, and now—”

“Not quite.” Now it’s Y/N’s turn to cut him off. “I said I would decide what you could know, and I decided that you could know my address. Just don’t tell anyone else at the gym, alright?”

Despite the bruising-induced tenderness on his face, Harry frowns immediately. “I would never do that. They’re all awful, and I would never…betray you like that.”

Y/N’s heart rate picks up as she listens to Harry speak. There’s something about him throwing around the word “betray” in the same sentence as “I” and “you” that makes a rush flow through her veins. “Thanks.”

“I know it’s not easy for you there.” Harry carefully gauges her reaction as he speaks. “I’ve heard how they speak to you. It’s—they have no respect.”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” Y/N sighs, tucking her hair behind her ears (her hair tie is in Harry’s hair, and she’s too tired to get another one from the bathroom). “I’m used to it.”

Harry’s frown deepens, his lips finally pinkening back up (which Y/N notices for medical reasons. Purely medical reasons). “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

Y/N barks out a laugh, harsh and short. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious.” Harry’s face is indignant, and in any other circumstances, Y/N might find it endearing. But not now.

“Harry.” She clears the laughter out of her voice. “Do you know what I deal with every day?”

“With the boxers? Yeah—”

“No. Just in general.” Y/N tucks her legs underneath her as she settles herself into the couch, careful not to bump Harry’s hand. “I’m a female in the medical field. The amount of shit I get from people, from men…” She shakes her head. “I’ve had male professors tell me it’s a good thing that I’m going to nursing school, and not medical school, because I’m too emotional to handle being a doctor. I’ve heard male medical students tell female medical students that they don’t belong in the program, because girls can’t make quick and rational decisions with patients. I’ve watched my male classmates be belittled for choosing to be a nurse over being a doctor. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Y/N bites her lip, but only for a moment. Now that she’s started, she can’t stop the flood of words pouring out of her. “Every day, I get my decisions and my calls second guessed by my superiors, while my male classmates’ decisions are accepted right away. I get called ‘sweetheart’ and ‘honey’ and ‘darling’ by professors and patients alike, while my male classmates are ‘mister’ and ‘nurse’. It’s nothing new.”

Harry watches her as she speaks with eyes full of awareness. She can tell he’s hanging on every word, his gaze trained on her and her only. He doesn’t speak as she pauses for a breath, so she continues, a rushed urgency weaving its way through her words.

“Do you want to know why I told you that I didn’t need your concern or your protection at the gym?” Y/N leans the side of her head against the back of the couch, not breaking Harry’s stare. “Because I deal with that shit every day, and I’ve learned to either ignore it or handle it myself. Unless some asshole puts his hands on me, and I physically need your help, then I’m fine. Can you understand that?”

Harry clears his throat once, but his voice is still thick when he replies. “Yeah, I can. I’m sorry that I—it was never my intention to push the topic, or make you uncomfortable, but I did. I’m sorry.”

The sincere apology brings a warm feeling to Y/N’s stomach, and it radiates further throughout her body with every breath Harry takes. “I accept your apology. Thank you.”

Harry smiles at her just the slightest bit, the corners of his mouth tugging up, and the warmth increases when Y/N notices the dimples that appear in his cheeks. Something about them makes Harry look so much younger, so much more innocent…and Y/N’s not certain why, but something about that observation makes her feel electric. As a distraction, she reaches for a wipe from her kit, catching Harry’s eye before touching his face with it. “May I?” She asks, waiting for his nod.

When he gives it, she begins to wipe the sweat and dried blood from his face, careful not to aggravate his bruises. It only takes her a few moments, but she spends extra time running the wipe over his cheeks, feeling the dip of his dimples beneath the cloth.

“Y/N…” Harry’s voice rumbles deep in his chest as his good hand catches hers. The wipe falls from her fingers as he keeps her hand pressed to his cheek. “You’re a wonderful nurse.” He says, his deep green irises burning holes into her own.

The burning of Harry’s skin is so much more apparent when he nuzzles his cheek into her hand, and Y/N feels as if she’s the one who’s been drinking with how badly her head is spinning at the contact. “I think…” She does her best to make sense of her words, while Harry busies himself with moving her hand over his cheek, guiding her to stroke the stubbled skin. “I think you may have a fever.”

Harry gives a short shake of his head, and he maneuvers Y/N’s hand over his lips before responding. “’S just how you make me feel. Feverish.” A small laugh falls out of his mouth, and he presses a chaste kiss to the tips of her cold fingers. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say that.”

An involuntary sound echoes from the back of Y/N’s throat at his words, and she’s not sure if it’s a gasp, a whimper, or both, but it brings heat to her cheeks nonetheless. “N-no. You shouldn’t say that.”

“Sorry.” Harry repeats again, his lips gently brushing against her fingertips over and over. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re drunk.” Y/N briefly thinks that she should pull her hand away, but she doesn’t, and while she may later blame that on her thinking she wouldn’t be able to, the truth is that she doesn’t want to. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I’m not that drunk.” Harry moves her hand to cup his cheek again, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles in a gentle but constant motion. “I know what I’m doing.”

Y/N’s breath hitches as Harry turns his head to plant a kiss in the middle of her open palm. His lips are just as warm as the rest of him, and she’s starting to wonder if there’s a fire burning inside him, deep in his chest.

It would explain the burning she feels whenever she’s near him.

“You have the hands of a healer, y’know that?” Harry’s voice echoes from deep in his chest, filling her senses with the cadence of his accent. “Calloused for all the right reasons. The complete opposite of mine.”

With a shaking breath, Y/N carefully threads her fingers through Harry’s, the metal of his rings cooling down the fire she feels. “I…I love your hands.” She says truthfully, because apparently they’re being truthful tonight. “They’re so strong when you fight, but…when you’re like this…” Y/N lets go of his hand, but keeps their fingers locked together, so both of their palms are open. It’s like each of them is an extension of the other, and delight flushes through her when she realizes it. “You’re gentle with me.”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.” Harry breathes, shifting a bit on the couch. A flicker of pain darkens his face, and Y/N’s free hand moves to his chest, rubbing circles over his shirt to soothe him. A relaxed sigh falls from his lips. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

Y/N’s brow furrows, her hands pausing their movements. A whine of protest leaves Harry’s pink lips, but she ignores it as she gives him a confused look. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

“I-I wouldn’t blame you if you were.” As Harry’s eyes drop to their intertwined fingers, Y/N begins to realize that this—his body close, his eyes downcast, his voice quiet—this is Harry opening up. This is Harry being vulnerable, honest, and himself. The fear in his voice is as much himself as the calm look on his face before a fight.

His fingers fiddle with hers as he searches for his next words, and Y/N can see the effort he’s making to choose the right thing to say. “I…” He pauses, the struggle clear on his face before he tries again. “Every week, you see what I do, right? You know—better than anyone, you know what I’m capable of. So if you were afraid of me, I…I wouldn’t blame you, Y/N. I’d understand.”

If someone asked Y/N in this moment how she got here, she wouldn’t be able to explain it. The journey from Point A has never been more muddled, but Point B is so clearly within her sight that she doesn’t care. How did she get here? she asks herself, when she already knows the answer like she knows the back of her hand, the bones and muscles of Harry’s body, and the precariousness of their situation. How did she get here? Y/N has no fucking clue. But here is the vulnerable look in Harry’s deep green eyes, the steady beat of his heart under her hand, the raw emotion in his voice, and Y/N wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

When Y/N realizes that, how badly she wants Harry, after weeks of denying it, the wind gets knocked out of her chest. She struggles to form words, to take anything more than a shallow breath, to do anything but watch as Harry’s composure starts to slip more and more. His teeth tug on his bottom lip more and more frequently, and his breathing increases as he sits anxiously, waiting for her response.

“I…” Y/N begins to rub his chest again, the circles careful and tight, and the anxiety that she heard in Harry’s words is now laced through her own. “I could never be…afraid of you, Harry. I told you, you’re…you’re gentle with me.”

He exhales a quick breath of relief as she speaks, the tightness visibly relaxing out of his expression, and Y/N moves her hand from his chest to his neck, cupping over his pulse point, her fingers tangling in the few strands of Hair she couldn’t tie back.

“You’re not—you don’t—” She struggles to find the right words, the perfect way to express herself. “I don’t know how to say it…”

“’S’alright.” Harry assures her right away as he presses their palms together again. “You don’t need to say it, Y/N, I—fuck—!”

Harry cries out with pain, his injured hand falling back onto the ice pack covered pillow after he tried to move it. Y/N immediately tends to it, securing the ice pack back around it quickly and carefully as Harry closes his eyes and lets his head fall back on the couch.

“Did you forget it’s sprained?” She asks him incredulously, cupping his cheek so he’ll look her in the eyes. “What were you trying to do?”

“I wanted to—your hair—” Harry grits his teeth, sucking in a quick breath as he struggles to control the pain. “I wanted to touch it, but I forgot…”

Y/N sighs, smoothing her thumb over his jaw. “You should go to bed. It’s late.”

Harry nods slightly, his eyes glued to the ground as he lets go of your hand and carefully stands. “Thank you for your help. I’ll get out of your hair—”

“What are you doing?” Y/N stands quickly, her arms automatically moving to support Harry. “You’re not leaving. You can’t go home like this.”

Harry meets her eyes with a look of confusion before glancing around her small studio apartment. “You don’t have a guest room, Y/N. Don’t worry about me, I’ve gone home looking worse. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. You’re not going anywhere.” Y/N tugs carefully on the sleeve covering his good arm. “C’mon. I have some clothes you can borrow.”

“I can’t stay—”

“Yes, you can.” She says stubbornly, her soft look transforming into a firm stare, as if she’s challenging him to challenge her. “It’s not a big deal, Harry. Not unless you make it one.”

The corners of his lips twitch, and Y/N wants to plant kiss after kiss on the edge of his mouth until he gives her a true smile. “Fine, Doc.” Harry murmurs. “If you say so.”

Y/N helps him to her bathroom, setting him down on the edge of her tub before grabbing him clothes from her dresser. Harry examines them after she hands them to him, a clear look of displeasure written on his face.

“These are men’s clothes.” He says quietly, holding up the sweatpants and t-shirt.

Y/N chews on her bottom lip. “Yeah. They are.”

Harry stares at her for a beat, waiting for an elaboration. When one doesn’t come, he decides to prompt it. “Whose clothes are these?”

“An ex.” Y/N says simply, her usual guard is back as she turns to open her bathroom cabinet. “There’s, um, a spare toothbrush in here. Use anything you need. I’ll…give you a moment to change.”

As Harry changes (which takes longer than Y/N would’ve thought, but then again, it may be hard to do with one sprained hand), Y/N busies herself with cleaning up. She tosses out the wipes and cotton pads stained with blood, and packs up her medical kit before setting it in her closet. As she pulls back the covers of her bed, a seed of regret begins to grow in her stomach. Would she be able to handle sleeping next to Harry? The idea of being encompassed by the smell of his cologne and musk for an extended period of time makes her woozy, and she’s beginning to consider sleeping on the couch when he emerges from the bathroom.

His build is bigger than that of her ex, so the t-shirt strains across his shoulders and arms. The pants fit nicely, but almost too nicely, if the way that Y/N can’t stop the thoughts that are racing through her head are any clue.

“They fit.” She says lamely as Harry approaches the bed, the ice pack still wrapped against his sprained hand. “That’s…that’s good.”

“Yeah. Your ex and I are pretty close in size.” Harry sits on the edge of the bed, his every movement careful and calculated. Now that the alcohol has completely left his system, Y/N can see how he’s assessing the situation with every passing moment.

Her instinct tells her that that’s good, and it’s what she should be doing too, but the memory of him touching her on the couch is too sweet to let her be cautious. They’ve passed that point, she thinks, and so she pushes back the covers, giving Harry a long look.

“Come here.” Y/N says quietly, beckoning him towards her. “Please.”

It’s the small plea that gets to Harry, and he can’t stop himself from carefully moving underneath the blanket. His warmth is immediately apparent, and Y/N thinks that the blankets are probably unnecessary if she’s going to be sleeping next to Harry’s fire all night.

Once he’s situated comfortably (or as comfortable as he can be with a sprained hand), Y/N flicks off her lamp, and darkness envelopes them. It takes a minute of blinking in the darkness for her eyes to adjust, but she quickly finds Harry’s green irises in the darkness. They give off their own light, she thinks, but that’s not surprising.

They lay there for a moment, each of them on their side, until Y/N decides to break the silence. “Hi.” She whispers into the space between them.

“Hi.” Harry’s low voice echoes back. His minty breath rolls over her, and Y/N lets out a soft sigh after inhaling the scent. She likes it more than she should.

Quiet falls between them again as each of them takes in the other. Y/N feels like she’s trying to memorize every plane of Harry’s face, like there’s going to be a quiz later and she needs to ace it. Where are the creases between his eyebrows? Where is his stubble the darkest? Where is the tiny, crescent shaped scar? Y/N commits every detail to memory, if only for her own pleasure. Being this close to him reminds her that he’s real, and she can’t help but wonder if Harry is doing the same.

There’s a tenseness between them, and Y/N’s not quite sure how to fix it. She’s certain she’ll never be able to relax around Harry, until his good hand reaches out and begins to stroke her hair.

The action is so tender and so gentle that her breath hitches in her chest. Harry keeps his eyes locked on hers, his gaze intense and unrelenting as his fingers deftly work their way through her hair. Y/N watches his chest rise and fall in time with his movements, and there’s something about the synchronized actions that calms her racing heart.

A flicker of emotion in Harry’s eyes is the last thing she registers before her own eyes drift shut.

…

The note is scribbled messily on a scrap of paper from her kitchen note pad, left on the pillow for Y/N to find the next morning.

Thanks again for the help. -H

…

“Patrick, you can’t be fucking serious.”

The gym owner gives her a sharp look as he taps ash off his cigarette. “Do I look like I’m one for jokes, Doc?”

Y/N’s mouth gapes open for a moment, her grip tightening on the back of the office chair. “Harry can’t fight tonight! He hurt his hand! Haven’t you listened to anything I told you?”

“Honestly, Doc, the only thing I listened to was Styles himself telling me he was fine.” Patrick gives Y/N a pointed look. “He wants to fight, so he’s going to fight.”

“It’s your gym!” Y/N yells, the anger inside her outweighing the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. “Tell him no!”

Puffing on his cigarette, Patrick shakes his head once. “I’m not doing that. Those people out there paid to see Styles fight, and that’s what they’re going to get.”

“They’re not going to see Harry fight.” Y/N spits out through gritted teeth. “They’re going to see Harry lose!”

“That’s his business.” Patrick shrugs nonchalantly, as if they’re not discussing how Harry’s blood is about to be splattered against the off-white vinyl of the ring. “I make my money either way, Doc.”

“And that’s your business, isn’t it?” Y/N says scathingly, pushing away from the chair. She lets her nails dig into her palms instead. “You don’t care who gets hurt, as long as you get your money!”

Patrick stands up now, his agitation beginning to show. “I’m not the bad guy here, Y/N. Harry says he’s good to fight, so he’s fighting. I’m not his babysitter, and I’m not his mother. He’s old enough to make his own decisions.”

Y/N opens her mouth again, but no sound comes out. Instead, she gives Patrick one last look of fury before storming out of his office, slamming the door behind her.

She should’ve known. She should’ve known that Harry would still try to fight tonight, despite his sprained hand that’s had less than two days to heal. In all honesty, the thought that he would try to fight never even occurred to her until she walked into the gym tonight and overheard multiple men talking in excitement about the match. When she first heard the name Styles, she had been sure she that was mishearing the conversations. But then it happened again. And again. And when she realized that Harry planned on fighting, she had been certain, so foolishly certain, that Patrick would cancel the match when she explained the situation.

It’s her own fault, she thinks, making her way into the crowd to watch the match. It’s her own fault for getting too comfortable, for believing that anyone would listen to what she says. The way Harry had looked at her made her believe that her words mattered, but tonight…this is a harsh reminder of what the world is really like.

If she thought there would be any chance of convincing Harry to call off the match, Y/N would storm the locker room in an instant, yelling and screaming and pleading until Harry saw sense. It was a double-edged sword, really. She knows him now, which makes her care for him more than ever before. And knowing him means knowing that he won’t back down from this match.

Y/N knows it’s going to be bad when Harry walks out with his sprained hand held awkwardly at his side, his face void of its usual calm and collected expression. But she knows it’s going to be a blood bath when Adam Bowers immediately follows him.

While Harry is doing his best to not show the pain and weakness on his face, Bowers is snarling at him from across the ring, rage and fury written into every one of his movements. It’s clear that Bowers wants his revenge for the humiliation Harry caused him in his very first match, and Y/N knows that he’ll stop at nothing to get it.

While most of the short match is watched from behind her hands, Y/N doesn’t miss the important moments. Harry on all fours, spitting blood out onto the vinyl matt. Harry barely dodging a punch, only to take a fist to his chest and having the wind knocked out of him. Harry gritting his teeth as his fist connects with Bowers’ jaw, not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to make him angry. Harry facedown on the floor of the ring, breath barely moving in and out of his body as blood streams from a gash on his head, mixing with the blood already flowing from his nose.

As the fear and panic seizes Y/N’s body, everything around her begins to move in slow motion. She sees the crowd roar, but does not hear it. She sees the referee drag Bowers away from Harry’s limp body, but does not hear the words he’s yelling. She sees Jeff run into the ring, but does not hear him calling for help. She sees Patrick run towards her, but does not hear him screaming her name until the fourth or fifth time.

“Y/N!” He yells again, grabbing her arm and yanking her behind him as he tears through the crowd. “Come on!”

Y/N lets herself be pulled back to the locker room, which is being transformed into a makeshift E.R. Men that she’s never met before are opening a folding table over the bench, tossing training mats on top of it to make a poor man’s gurney. Patrick takes the medical kit from her hands, opening it roughly and throwing a pair of clean gloves at her. If she were in a clearer state of mind, Y/N would scream at him, demand to know why he allowed this to happen, but the sound of Jeff’s yelling signals Harry’s arrival, and all thoughts rush out of her head.

Jeff and another man carry Harry into the locker room, and while Y/N can tell they’re trying to be careful, groans are leaving Harry’s mouth as they lay him face up on the folding table, displaying the full extent of his injuries.

And here it is. The fall of Harry Styles.

Bruises are blossoming over every inch of skin that she can see, new tattoos that she hates the meaning behind, but those are the least of her worries. There’s swelling and agitation in his sprained hand (which she suspects is now broken), along with blood spilling from his split knuckles. His nose is swollen and bleeding, his lip is cut open, and there’s a black eye forming on his face at an alarming rate. His cut from a few nights ago has split open again, three times as wide, two times as deep, and the blood pouring down his face is getting into his half shut eyes.

That’s where Y/N decides to start.

She takes a deep breath to center herself, pushing all of her emotions out of her as best as she can. Harry needs her right now. He needs her to take care of him in the way that only she can.

Y/N ties her hair out of her face quickly before snapping on the gloves. She pushes Jeff and Patrick out of the way, grabbing her penlight from her kit and stepping towards Harry.

“Harry.” She speaks in a calm but firm voice. “Open your eyes for me, Harry. Can you do that?”

His eyelids flutter at her voice, the green that she’s come to know barely peaking through. Y/N flicks on the penlight, carefully raising one of his eyelids and then the other while shining the light in his eyes. The dilation of his pupils is slightly uneven, but Y/N ignores the sick feeling that it causes in her stomach so that she can continue to work.

“Jeff.” She calls over her shoulder. “Put on gloves and apply pressure to the gash on his forehead. Keep talking to him while you do it.”

Jeff steps forward and follows her instructions exactly. She hears him muttering to Harry, but can’t make out the words as her focus shifts to Harry’s abdomen. His breathing is still shallow, much too shallow for her liking, and she’s worried that something is affecting his lungs.

“Patrick, I need my stetho—” Before Y/N finishes the sentence, Patrick is already holding out the item for her, swapping it for her penlight. She mutters a quick “thank you” as she slips the ends in her ears. “Harry, I need you to take a deep breath for me, alright?” She places the stethoscope on his chest. “As deep as you can.”

Harry sucks in a breath, but quickly moans in pain.

Y/N curses under her breath. “Again, Harry. As deep as you can.”

Again, the only breath he can take is shallow and constricted. Y/N loops the stethoscope around her neck as she begins to examine his chest, her fingers prodding around the bruises. When she gets to his ribs, Harry lets out another cry, jerking forward on the table.

“Keep him still.” Y/N commands Jeff and the other man, who she finally recognizes as a gym trainer named Nick. She pushes on the same spot, her face grim as she receives the same reaction.

“I think he has a fractured rib.” She glances at Jeff before continuing her examination. “Just one, I think, but there’s definitely something wrong. It doesn’t feel completely broken, or like there’s any splinters, but that last hit to his chest—” Y/N’s demeanor begins to slip as she remembers the sight of Harry lying on the floor of the ring, and she shakes her head to clear the image from her mind. She needs to focus. “Yeah. Fractured rib.”

Y/N moves through the checklist in her mind, turning her attention to Harry’s injured hand. It’s still wrapped from his fight, so she grabs her bandage scissors from her bag to get a better look at the damage. She tries to be careful as she cuts, but she knows Harry’s in pain, and she wishes she had stronger medicine to offer than an extra strength ibuprofen.

It doesn’t take her long to guess that his hand is fractured. Of course, she can’t be entirely sure without an X-ray, but the closest thing to an X-ray machine that she has at her disposal is the vending machine down the hall. Y/N does her best to clean the cuts on his knuckles, carefully bandaging them before looking up at Patrick.

“Go to the pharmacy and buy a hand brace.” She tells him as she wraps a cold compress around Harry’s hand. “Something sturdy. And get more painkillers.”

Patrick disappears with a nod, leaving Y/N with just Jeff and Nick to help her. She sets another cold compress over his abdomen before working her way up to the injuries that look the worst.

Harry’s nose, she’s surprised to find, isn’t broken. She can touch it without hearing any cracking sounds, and, to her relief, the majority of the blood beneath his nose is from the initial hit. She instructs Jeff to hold another cold compress lightly to the area before she moves to the gash on his forehead.

From the first look, Y/N knows it’s bad. Despite the pressure Jeff’s been applying, the gash hasn’t stopped bleeding, and seems to be tearing more every time Harry’s forehead contracts in pain. She wipes more blood from the area as the dread in her stomach grows.

“I think…” Y/N takes a deep breath through her mouth. “I’m going to have to stitch it.”

Jeff and Nick exchange a look with each other as Y/N pushes back Harry’s sweat and blood slicked curls from his forehead.

“Nick, grab me two ibuprofen and some water. And Jeff, pass me my suturing kit, will you? It’s probably towards the bottom of my bag.” Y/N waits until the two men are preoccupied with their tasks to address Harry. His eyes are still closed, but he’s vocal enough to voice when he’s in pain. “Harry.” She murmurs, smoothing his hair again. “Harry, do you know where you are?”

Harry sucks in another shallow breath as his eyelids crack open. “I-I’m—the locker room. In the locker room.”

Y/N nods quickly. “You are. Do you remember what happened?”

“Had a…” Harry’s brow furrows, causing a fresh stream of blood to drip from the gash. Y/N applies more pressure as he speaks. “Had a match. Got hurt.”

“You did.” Y/N nods again, glancing at the medicine in Nick’s hand. Harry’s responses ease her worries of a serious concussion, so she motions Nick over. “You have a bad cut on your forehead, Harry, so I need you to take this medicine before I fix it, alright?”

Harry makes a noise of understanding in the back of his throat, and Y/N swaps out her gloves and prepares her sutures while Nick helps Harry swallow the pills. She prays that she hasn’t underestimated the severity of his head injury, and that the medicine won’t do more damage than good. She knows it’s risky, but she just wants to give him something to ease his pain, even if it’s only a fraction of the painkillers he actually needs.

Jeff sets up a folding chair for Y/N, so she can sit and be more comfortable as she stitches the gash closed. Y/N steadies herself against the cold metal chair before turning her attention back to Harry.

“I’m going to stitch you now, Harry, alright?” She says in a clear voice. “It—it’s going to hurt, but I have to do it. If the pain gets really bad—” she nods at Jeff, who takes Harry’s uninjured hand in his own. “Squeeze Jeff’s hand, but only with your left hand. Do you understand?”

Harry manages to mutter a weak “yeah,” before his eyes clamp shut again.

Stitching somebody up in a locker room is about as awful as Y/N imagined it would be.

She knows that each tug of the needle through Harry’s skin hurts him badly, and with no anesthetic, the pain only increases with each stitch. Harry, to his credit, does his best to stay still, gritting his teeth and squeezing Jeff’s hand until it turns blue, but small moans and whimpers still escape him every few minutes. When Y/N finally finishes, cleaning and bandaging the now-closed wound, the entire room breathes a sigh of relief.

Patrick returns a few minutes later with more medicine and a brace, which Y/N carefully straps onto Harry’s fractured hand. After that, all that’s left for her to do is to wipe more blood from his face and say a prayer.

The pain medication now finally starting to kick in, Harry begins to doze off, his breathing shallow yet even. It’s not until his eyes completely close that the exhaustion and emotions catch up with Y/N, and she leans against the lockers, her back sliding down them until she’s seated on the ground with her knees pulled to her chest.

Patrick crouches down next to her, taking off her plastic gloves and handing her a water bottle. “You did good, Doc.” He mutters, rubbing her shoulder. “Really good.”

Y/N takes the water from him, but offers no other response. It’ll take her a bit of time to forgive Patrick for this, she thinks, although she knows most of the blame is on Harry’s shoulders.

Jeff sits down in the metal hair he brought for Y/N and lets out a long sigh. “Thank you, Y/N. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know…”

“He shouldn’t have been fighting tonight, Jeff.” Y/N says in a thick voice, her fingers picking at the label on the bottle. “He was injured, and—”

“I tried to stop him.” Jeff glances at Harry’s sleeping form. “He’s so fucking stubborn. He insisted on fighting.”

“No more.” Y/N shakes her head. “No more fights. Not until he’s completely recovered.”

No one contradicts her.

Nick reappears in the doorway, despite Y/N not even realizing he had left the room, with a pair of keys in his hand. “I got the car ready, Jeff. We can move him whenever.”

“Where are you taking him?” Y/N asks, and while she hopes the answer is “a hospital,” she knows it won’t be.

“Back to his apartment.” Jeff stands up slowly, wiping his hands on his pants. “I’ll stay with him for a bit, make sure he’s alright.” He glances at Y/N. “Can I call you if—?”

Y/N nods before he even finishes the sentence, her eyes trained on the rise and fall of Harry’s chest. It had soothed her less two nights before, and its continuation still soothed her now. “Yeah. Call me if he needs anything. I’ll come right over.”

…

It takes five days for Harry’s name to pop up on Y/N’s phone screen.

While she normally keeps her phone on do not disturb during class, she programmed his number to come through, just in case there was any sort of emergency. The sound of her phone vibrating on her desk makes her jump, and she sends an apologetic look to her professor, reaching to turn it off. When she sees Harry’s name, however, her heart begins to pound.

She ducks outside the classroom quickly before she answers. Y/N had been dying to hear from Jeff on Harry’s recovery, but now that the call was actually coming, she worries that the call isn’t just for an update.

“Jeff?” She asks, assuming the coach is on the other line. “Is everything alright?”

“Uh—” It takes just one syllable for Y/N’s heart to stop. “It’s Harry, not Jeff.”

Y/N walks further away from her classroom, glancing around to see if she’s alone. “It’s good to hear your voice.” Y/N murmurs. “How—how are you feeling?”

A dry chuckle echoes through the phone. “Like shit, but that’s to be expected. Jeff told me I have a fractured rib?”

“And a fractured hand, and a mild concussion.” Y/N bites her lip. “Your nose wasn’t broken, though, so…at least there’s that.”

“Yeah. There’s that.”

Y/N rubs her eyes as she leans against the corridor wall, her gaze trained on the trees outside the window. “I—Jeff said he’d call me if there was anything wrong, so—I would’ve stopped by—”

“No, I’ve been fine. Just in pain, but that’s to be expected.” Harry assures her. Y/N can almost picture him running his (not broken) hand through his hair. “You’re busy with school. I understand.”

“Yeah, but—” Y/N lowers her voice as a group of students walks by. “My class finishes in an hour. Can I come see you tonight?”

There’s silence on the other end, and for a moment, Y/N begins to worry that she’s overstepped a boundary. She opens her mouth to apologize when Harry finally answers.

“Yeah. You can.”

…

Y/N’s medical knowledge tells her that things have to get worse before they can get better. She’s seen it time and time again, not only in cases she studies, but in her life. For things to heal, they have to hurt.

And yet, when Harry opens the door to his apartment, her breath still freezes in her chest.

More bruises have settled in since she last saw him in the locker room. Dark purple stains down his skin, across his jaw, under his eye, and if Harry wasn’t wearing a black t-shirt, she knows she would see more scattered across his chest. To Y/N’s relief, however, the swelling in his face has gone down, and it’s obvious that the bandage over his stitched wound has been changed, albeit a bit clumsily. His fractured hand is held gently at his side, so as not to agitate it, but Y/N can tell that the fractured rib is bothering him as he breathes carefully.

“Hi.” Harry opens the door wider, stepping back to allow her inside. “Come on in.”

Y/N steps over the threshold, her gaze turning from Harry’s injuries to his apartment. It’s a little bigger than hers, she notices, and estimates that it’s a one bedroom with actual spaces dedicated for separate things. Although he mostly sticks to a grey colour pallet in his minimalist decorating, Y/N can pick out objects that tell her this is where Harry lives. A framed photo of him and a woman who looks just like him sits on the table next to the couch. A pair of red boxing gloves dangle off the edge of the closet door. Harry’s familiar cologne lingers in the air, mixing with the scent of a candle he has lit in the living room. Despite the grey tones, the apartment feels just as warm as Harry does.

“I like your place.” Y/N stands in the hallway awkwardly, not sure of where to go. “It’s nice.”

“Thanks.” Harry shuts the door with his good hand before gesturing for her to sit down. “You can, uh, sit on the couch if you’d like. Do you want something to drink?”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, I’m fine, thank you. But you should drink some water.”

An unbelieving laugh leaves Harry’s mouth, but he moves to the kitchen nonetheless. “Are you telling me what to do in my own home?”

“Yes. You have to be hydrated to heal.” Y/N watches as Harry fills two glasses with a water filter from the fridge, her mouth falling open slightly when Harry manages to pick up both filled glasses with his good hand. Although the sight sets off a familiar flutter in her stomach, she manages to come to her senses enough to snap her mouth shut again by the time he turns around.

Harry sets the glass down on the coffee table in front of her before gingerly sitting down on the other side of the couch. While he’s trying to mask his discomfort, Y/N can detect it easily.

“Is it your rib?” She asks, worry slipping into her voice. “Is it hurting you?”

Harry manages to give a small shrug. “’S not awful. I’ve been taking some ibuprofen for pain, like you said.”

Y/N twists her ring around her finger, the fidgeting helping to keep her centered. “I’d get you something stronger if I could, but—”

“You’ve done more than enough for me, Y/N.” Harry cuts over her with a firm look. “Don’t worry about it.”

Y/N can’t look at Harry. She can’t. If she does, she knows that all she’s going to be able to see is the bruises and bandages and braces, and she’ll start to cry. And if she starts to cry, she won’t stop, and then she’ll just be upset and crying in Harry’s living room, all because she looked at him, and that’s not what she’s going to do. She repeats the thought in her head like a mantra. That’s not what she’s going to do. That’s not what she’s going to do.

And then she looks at Harry.

Harry is already looking at her. The longer they’ve spent together, the more she’s noticed cracks in his calm façade, and in this moment, those cracks are wide open. The problem, however, is that Y/N can never decipher what exactly those cracks show her. Harry’s face, even while emotional, is unreadable. She can’t understand the feelings swirling through his green eyes any more than she can understand the flexing and unflexing of his uninjured hand. Is it a nervous tic? Is he trying to calm himself, like Y/N does when she plays with her ring? Is he trying to restrain himself from reaching over to touch her, like the night he showed up at her door? While all those questions flip through her mind, only one passes through her lips.

“Why did you do it, Harry?” She asks, voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder will shatter the space between them.

Harry takes a long sip of water like he’s stalling for an answer, trying to find anything worth saying. “I needed the money, Y/N. And I couldn’t—getting the shit beat out of me by Bowers was better than forfeiting to him. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t give him the satisfaction.”

“That—” Y/N sucks in a breath, trying to remind her lungs to move the air in and out of her body. “That is…ridiculously idiotic, and prideful, and stupid, and a million other things, but that’s not what I meant.” She steels herself before meeting Harry’s eyes again, willing herself to sound less like a child and more like a woman. “I was asking why you left me that morning, after…after you stayed the night.”

For the first time since she arrived, it’s Harry’s eyes that are unable to meet hers. He drops his gaze to his injured hand, cradling it in his lap, and Y/N takes his silence as a signal for her to continue.

“You just—I told you it was fine for you to stay. And then the next morning you were gone, and your note…” Y/N can’t help but scoff. “‘Thanks again for the help’? Really? That’s all you had to say to me?”

Harry clears his throat as his good hand begins to tap against his thigh. “It’s not all I had to say, I just—I couldn’t say everything in a note.”

“Why did you even have to leave a note?” Y/N asks incredulously. “That’s the whole point, Harry! You left, didn’t call me, or tell me that you were alright, and then the next time I saw you, you were getting beat half to death. That’s not…fair.”

At that word, Harry’s eyes widen, and his face contorts into an expression Y/N can finally read: disbelief. “Fair?” He repeats, accent thick. “It’s not fair? Nothing in life is fair, Y/N. I didn’t call you because I’m not yours, and you’re not mine. I let myself pretend a bit that night, while I was drunk, but I shouldn’t have. If there’s anything that wasn’t fair, anything I have to apologize for, it’s that.”

The tears come then, pricking her eyes with an irritating heat as she drops her gaze into her lap. “So you—you showed up at my apartment in the middle of the night, bleeding and injured and drunk, and you spend the night so I can make sure you’re safe, and the only thing you think you have to apologize for is—is pretending?” Y/N shakes her head. “What does that even mean?”

“It means I shouldn’t even have been there in the first place. And after I showed up, I should’ve been more careful. More in control.” Harry stares down at his hands again, not to avoid her gaze, but to think about what they did that night. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like I did. I shouldn’t have asked questions. I shouldn’t have touched you. I shouldn’t have crossed all the lines I set for myself months ago. But I did, and I’m sorry.”

“I’m not sorry.” Y/N wraps her arms around herself tightly, and although the force against her is comforting, she’d prefer it if the arms weren’t hers. “I’d rather you come to me for help than stumble home in the dark, and I…” A chill runs through her, and she rubs her arms a bit to keep warm. Being away from Harry and his fire takes its toll. “I didn’t mind you asking questions, or touching me. I liked it. I thought I made that obvious.”

Harry’s face flicks back to the expression that she’s unable to read. “Nevertheless—”

“Do you honestly think you’re the only one who set lines and boundaries?” Y/N turns her gaze back to Harry, taking in the closed off posture he displays. She hates it almost as much as she hates her own guarded appearance. “I did, too, but the more we talked, the more I started to waver. The boundaries were out the window the moment you stepped into my apartment, Harry. And we can go back and forth and debate who crossed what line first, but the truth is, we both knew exactly what we were doing, so don’t—” Y/N gestures at him, how he’s turned his body away from her. “Don’t sit there and act like you’re the only one to blame when I took every step with you.”

Her final words are followed by silence and all the sounds that fill it. The ticking of the clock on the wall, the dripping of the kitchen sink, the laboured sound of Harry’s shallow breathing, the pounding of Y/N’s own heart. She focuses on each individual sound, each one an ode to whatever it is that’s been hanging between them since the night they met, until Harry finally responds in a low and controlled voice.

“I didn’t think that you…wanted me like that.” He begins slowly, his body finally turning to look at Y/N straight on. She can see the strain on his face, and how difficult this movement is for him, but he doesn’t stop until he can meet her eyes.

The sight of his green irises takes all the fight out of her.

“How could you not realize that?” Y/N crosses her legs underneath her, placing her palms flat against her thighs. If she wants to have an open conversation, she thinks, then she needs to be open.

“Because you’re you. And I’m…” Harry’s head turns just for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. “I told you last week. You’re a healer, in every sense of the word, and I’m the complete opposite.”

“And I told you,” Y/N says stubbornly. “That I don’t buy that for a minute. I meant it when I said I wasn’t afraid of you. And for once, you were being honest, and I thought that we were going to move forward together.”

A sharp laugh falls from Harry’s lips, followed by a wince as his good hand rubs gently over his ribs. “Honest? Do you have any idea of how much I managed to hold back that night? I was half pissed, sitting on your couch, feeling you touch me, while things I had never said out loud before were coming out of my mouth, and I still didn’t tell you the worst of it.” Harry drags his hand through his hair roughly. “I don’t know, maybe I should’ve. Maybe you would’ve left by now, and saved yourself the trouble.”

“Stop it!” Y/N takes his hand, weaving their fingers together like she did when he was at her apartment. “You keep—it’s like you want to create this narrative where I’m good and you’re bad. That’s not true!” She presses her other hand over his. “We’re both here. We both ended up in the same place.”

“But what about after?” Harry’s voice is tight as his gaze settles on their locked hands. “The difference between us is that you have a life outside of that gym that’s waiting for you. But the gym is my life. Boxing is my life. I don’t have any other career to hold out for, Y/N. There’s nothing for me except boxing, and there’s everything for you.”

“What about me?” Y/N brings Harry’s fingers to her lips, pressing small kisses to the tips like he had done for her. “You could have boxing and me. If you were just honest with me, if you opened up completely, I’d do the same.”

Harry exhales slowly, closing his eyes at the feeling of your lips dancing over his hand. “It doesn’t work like that, Y/N. I wish it did, but it doesn’t.”

“Who decides if it works like that?”

The corner of Harry’s lip twitches, and Y/N knows he’s remembering one of the first conversations they had, when he asked who decided what he needed to know. Y/N wonders if that was the first line that was crossed.

“I do.” Harry says after a moment. “I decide.”

…

With how little she knows about Harry, Y/N would’ve expected forgetting him to be easier.

She can count on one hand the number of personal facts that she knows about him, with at least three of them involve his boxing, and yet…when she’s home in the evenings, her schoolwork done, her mind free to roam, it’s always Harry’s face that she sees.

Y/N had known that Harry’s first night back would be hard. After six weeks of being away from the ring, recovering from his injuries, Harry’s return to the ring would be the first time she’s seen him since he got hurt. Patrick had forewarned her about him coming back two weeks ago, and although he mentioned it like an update, Y/N knows he was saying it to caution her. She had assured him that Harry’s return had no personal meaning to her, and no affect on her, but as she makes her way to the locker rooms after the match, her nerves are as high strung as they’ve ever been.

The match between Harry and an unexperienced boxer named Jackson ends within minutes, with Harry the unsurprising victor, but the match had only been a small source of her anxiety. As she set Jackson’s nose (Harry seems to be back to his old patterns), her mind was on one thing and one thing only.

Compared to the last time she saw Harry’s locker room, the place looks like a paradise. The floors are stained with sweat instead of blood. The brown stains in the sink are only from rust. And the blood that’s splattered on Harry’s forehead isn’t his own.

“You’re getting quicker, Doc.” Jeff comments in lieu of a hello. “Harry hasn’t even had time to shower yet.”

Y/N glances at the sweaty boxer sitting on the bench, who is currently preoccupied with the incredibly difficult task of unwrapping his hands. “I’ve had more practice, I suppose.”

Taking her seat next to Harry, she opens her case and slips on a pair of disposable gloves. Jeff and Patrick stand in the corner, discussing Harry’s return to the ring, as Y/N focuses on the work that she’s here to do.

“You have a bruise on your jaw, but that’s about it.” Y/N touches his chin gently, tilting his head to a different angle. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” Harry says shortly, giving a quick nod of his head. “Yeah, I feel fine. It felt good to be out there again.”

Y/N’s eyes flicker to the new scar on his forehead before turning her attention to his hands. “Did you wrap your right hand tighter tonight?”

“I did.” Harry nods again. “And I’ve been using the brace at home, like you told me to.”

“Good.” After a quick check, Y/N moves to his abdomen, pressing carefully. “Have you been having any difficulties breathing?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, it’s much better. It only hurts if I stretch a lot, and only for a second.”

“Just some residual bruising, probably.” Y/N bites her lip as her fingers brush over his tattoos. ��It’s to be expected.”

Harry’s gaze finally catches her own, as unreadable and cavernous as ever, and Y/N clears her throat as she pulls her hands away. “I think you’re all good. Jackson barely touched you tonight.”

“I wanted to give him someone easy to ease him back into the ring.” Patrick joins the conversation. “I need to build my champion back up.”

Irritation flickers across Harry’s face for a brief moment. Y/N can tell that he doesn’t like the idea of being eased into something.

“We appreciate it, Patrick.” Jeff claps a hand over the gym owner’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go discuss next week in your office?”

Patrick glances at Y/N, who’s busying herself with rooting around in her medical kit. “Yeah. Alright.” He says after a moment. “Are you two good here?”

Y/N nods, not lifting her head to watch the two men leave the locker room. She keeps her eyes glued to anything but Harry as she stands, snapping off her gloves and tossing them in the trash.

“Well, you’re good to go.” She says after a moment. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you next week.”

“Wait.” Harry catches her arm when she reaches for the kit. “Y/N, wait, I—just wait.”

The familiar burn of Harry touching her courses through her arm, and Y/N bites her lip to keep the sigh of relief from slipping out of her. “What?”

“Look at me.” Harry murmurs, his voice lower than normal. “Please look at me.”

Y/N finally raises her head, looking Harry in the eyes again. She can tell he’s searching for something in her stare, but she’s not sure what. If she knew, she’d give it to him in a heartbeat. Or maybe she’d withhold it, she muses, so that he’d keep searching, his arm on hers.

“What?” She asks after a moment, Harry still looking up at her. “What? What is it?”

“I…” Harry clears his throat as his hand drops slightly, his grip falling from her forearm to her wrist. “Did you watch the match?”

Y/N nods, hoping her disappointment at the innocence of his question isn’t too apparent on her face. “I did. I always do.”

“I know, but I wasn’t sure if…” Harry’s gaze flickers to his hand on your wrist. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to.”

“It’s my job.” Y/N tries to sound professional, tries to reinstate the boundaries that they so carelessly broke, but there’s nothing professional about the way Harry is threading his fingers through hers as he pulls her back down to the bench.

“I missed you.” He says quietly, his thumb moving over the back of her knuckles. “I wanted to call, but I didn’t want to…I wanted you to move on.”

“Is that why you’re holding my hand?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, but she doesn’t pull away.

Harry tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “Holding your hand is more for myself right now.”

“You can’t do that, Harry.” Y/N’s voice grows tighter as she wills herself to pull her hand away. “You can’t just—you can’t say things like that. Not after what you said before.”

“I know—”

“No, you don’t.” Y/N finally pulls her hand away, grabbing her medical kit before taking a step back from him. Harry watches her movements with disappointed eyes. “You don’t know. You don’t want to give us a chance? You don’t want to open yourself up to me? Then fine. Don’t. But don’t expect me to do anything more than my job. Is that understood?”

Harry’s mouth presses into a tight line. “Understood.”

…

It’s four A.M. when Harry knocks on Y/N’s door two weeks later.

Y/N, like most people at this time of the very early morning, is in bed when she hears the frantic knocking on her front door. She’s been asleep for less than two hours, having only made it back home from that night’s match at two A.M. (Harry had dislocated his opponent’s shoulder, as well as split the skin of his forehead, and it took her some time to clean them up), and almost doesn’t get up. Her neighbours have no problem with making as much noise as they see fit at any time of the day, and she assumes it’s one of their drunk friends trying to find a place to stay overnight. Thinking she’ll just wait for them to go away, Y/N pulls her comforter up to her chin tightly.

And then the person knocks again. And again. And again.

Once it’s clear that she won’t be getting any sleep until she deals with whoever is pounding on her front door, Y/N angrily pulls herself out from under her covers, throwing a hoodie over her tank top to cover herself. She grumbles to herself as she walks from her bed to her front door, ready to curse out whoever it is that gets so drunk that they can’t remember which apartment their friends live in.

And then she sees Harry.

He looks more or less the same as he did when Y/N left him at the gym two hours ago, save for the black eye that’s darkened in her absence. His curls are wild, falling carelessly over his shoulders to dust the top of his long jacket. He’s dressed in casual street clothes, covering up the tattoos that Y/N’s gotten so used to seeing every week. His expression, like always, is unreadable, but when Y/N meets Harry’s eyes after he looks her up and down, she can define one thing: longing.

Then again, she may just be imagining that as a symptom of sleep deprivation.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” Y/N demands, opening her door a little wider once she realizes that he’s not a stranger. “It’s four in the morning!”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Harry glances over her shoulder, as if he’s checking to make sure she’s alone. “Can I come in?”

Y/N’s mouth drops open in confusion, but she still takes a step back from the door. Where else is he supposed to go at this time of night? “I—yeah. Alright.”

Harry walks into her apartment slowly, his eyes scanning her living space like he’s seeing it for the first time. Y/N thinks that maybe he doesn’t remember much about it from when he was last here, seeing he had been drunk and in pain at the time. Still, she doesn’t appreciate how he seems to be evaluating how she lives, especially when he smirks as he spots the teddy bear on her bed that she had hidden when he was last there.

“Did I wake you?” Harry asks slowly, as if the idea that Y/N had been sleeping had just occurred to him.

“It’s four in the morning.” Y/N repeats in a deadpan voice. “Yes. You woke me, and you better have a damn good reason for it.” Her eyes scan over his body again, in case there’s an injury from the fight that she didn’t notice before. Or a stab wound. Honestly, with Harry, she feels like there are any number of things that he could show up at her door to ask for help with.

And she knows that she’d help him. No matter what.

Harry rakes a hand through his loose hair, and Y/N wonders how his rings don’t get caught as he does it. Then she tells herself to stop looking at his rings, because if she looks at his rings, she’ll look at his hands, and if she looks at his hands—

“My dad left when I was a kid.”

Harry’s voice snaps Y/N out of her thoughts. She refocuses on him, watching as the cracks in his façade slowly open up again to reveal the nervousness behind his words.

“What?” She asks, brow furrowing in confusion. Y/N thinks that she should tell him to sit, but by the energy radiating off of Harry, she doesn’t think he’ll listen.

“My dad left when I was a kid.” Harry repeats, his voice wavering for just a second. He clears his throat before continuing. “I was around seven when he ran off, and then it was just my mum, my sister, and I. My mum did her best to take care of us herself, but it—it was hard. We never really had much, and what we did have, she spent on my sister and I, to make sure that we were alright.”

“Harry, I don’t understand.” Y/N reaches for him hesitantly, but pauses before her fingers actually make contact with his jacket. “Why are you telling me this?”

Harry licks his lips once, and Y/N watches as he flexes and unflexes his right hand. “I’m trying to…to be open. To be honest.”

A beat passes between them before Y/N comprehends his words. “You—what?”

“You said I had to be honest with you.” Harry’s teeth worry his bottom lip, chewing it for a moment before he continues. “And I-I want to try it. I want to make this work—make us work. I’ve been thinking about it for the last few weeks, but tonight, when you were helping me after the match, I just—” The words are spilling out of him faster than they ever have before, like a dam has burst, and Harry is getting washed away in the flood. And taking Y/N with him. “I wanted to kiss you. I almost did, but that wouldn’t be right of me, because you told me what you wanted, and what you needed, so I went home, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and missing you, and wanting you, because I want you so bad, Y/N—”

“Harry.” Y/N touches his shoulder this time, rubbing her hand against him in soothing circles. “Take a deep breath, yeah? Slow down. How about we sit down on the couch, and I’ll get us a drink, and then we’ll talk, okay?”

Harry’s eyes soften at the suggestion, and colour rushes to his cheeks, flushing his pale skin to a light pink. “Yeah.” He mumbles, his hands rubbing over the sleeves of his jacket. “I want that.”

The way he says, “I want that,” such a simple phrase, causes Y/N’s heart to thump in her chest. There’s something so sincere in his tone, but Y/N doesn’t want to let herself hope. She needs to hear everything he has to say before she lets herself be that foolish.

Y/N walks to her tiny kitchen, pulling out two glasses and filling them halfway with whiskey and ice. The whiskey had been a gift from that year’s secret Santa gift exchange in the nursing program, and Y/N had yet to open it, as she doesn’t have much of a taste for sipping liquors. However, tonight seems to call for something stronger than regular beer.

When Y/N returns to Harry, he’s stripped off his long jacket, but his patterned shirt doesn’t seem to be warm enough to stop him from shivering. Y/N hands the drink to him, frowning as she touches his arm.

“Are you cold?” She asks in concern, despite his skin feeling as warm to her touch as it usually is. “I can get you a sweater…”

Harry shakes his head once, taking a long sip of the whiskey. “No, just—nervous, I suppose.”

Y/N nods softly, pulling her feet under her to sit cross-legged on the couch. She wants to watch Harry straight on as he speaks. “Finish what you were saying earlier.” She murmurs. “If…you can.”

“Can’t remember how far into my speech I got.” Harry laughs once, short and anxious, his hand tugging on his hair again. “I was rehearsing it on my walk over, but I blanked the moment you opened the door.”

“There was something about…” Y/N wraps her hands around her full glass. “Needing me?”

Harry’s cheeks pinken again. “Right. Yeah. That’s quite…new for me. I’ve never needed someone before in a—in the way that I need you. I have my mum and sister, and Jeff, but you…you’re different.” He busies himself with another sip of his drink. “It’s like…it’s so confusing, Y/N. I know I shouldn’t. I’ve had that talk with myself countless times, and with you, and I’ve told myself that you’re so much better off without me, but I just can’t make myself let you go.”

Y/N purses her lips, her eyes dropping to her lap as she answers in a careful and controlled voice. “I feel the same. I haven’t stopped thinking about you in weeks. I don’t think I’m capable of it, really. You’re—you’re under my skin. And it’s new, and strange, and uncomfortable, but only when I’m away from you. When I’m with you, it feels as easy as breathing.”

Harry rubs his lips, and Y /N can tell that he’s still processing what she said, which she doesn’t blame him for. When he continues with his story, instead of commenting on her response, she feels a sense of relief. He’s not retreating back into the familiarity of being guarded. Not yet. “So…so my dad left. And Mum tried, but we weren’t in a super good place. Gemma wanted to go to college, so she took out loans, and my mum remortgaged the house, and…all the bills piled up at once. And I didn’t even know until we were about to lose the house. I found her crying one day, my mum…” Harry’s eyes get a far away look in them. “She said she…felt like she failed us, which is ridiculous, because she’s—she’s just the best,” A smile flickers on Harry’s face for a brief moment. “You’d like her.” He takes another sip of whiskey before continuing. “Well, I had just graduated high school, and I didn’t really have any…plans. College didn’t seem that important at the moment, so I went to work. I had to take care of her, you know?” Harry fiddles with a ring on his finger. “I was the man of the house. I had to take care of her. So I went to work, and I boxed a bit in my free time, nothing serious, but it still wasn’t quite enough. And I had some friends who had come to America to work, and I knew that there were…easier ways to make money here. And I could make a lot of money fast, and send it back home, and make sure that everything was okay. So…that’s what I did.”

“I remember. Patrick told me.” Y/N bites her lip, tapping her fingers against her glass. “He said that he sent you away at first.”

“He did. It pissed me off.” Irritation flickers through Harry’s eyes. “I’d come so far, only to be turned down because I didn’t have as much muscle as the other fighters, when I knew I could fight three times as good. But I couldn’t just go home, so I trained. I fought at some other gyms while training, but none of them paid as much as Patrick’s. Boxing there…I have enough money to send home to Mum while living here. It’s high risk, but it’s high reward.”

Y/N finally takes a sip of her whiskey, trying her best to hide the grimace that crawls onto her features. “Do you really think you’re going to box for the rest of your life?”

“I do.” Harry answers immediately. “I’m no good at anything else. I’ll box until my body gives out, and after that I’ll train others, if I can. Either way…this is my life. This is as far as I go, really. And you…”

“I still have more school ahead of me.” Y/N runs her finger over the rim of her glass as she replies. ��But I’m not—I said it before. You want to paint me as good, when we both ended up at that gym. I needed the money too.”

Harry shifts on the couch, repositioning himself to look at her better. “I was open with you. I…shared. Will you share with me, now?”

Y/N hesitates, but knows she can’t say no. “Share what?”

It takes Harry a moment to settle on a question. “You had clothes from an ex.” He says finally. “What happened with them?”

Y/N sighs, leaning her head against the back of the couch. “His name was Parker. We met in high school. We started dating in our junior year, and continued dating until last year. He goes to school back east, at Stanford. We…I was in love with him. Very in love with him.” Y/N glances at Harry, watching how his jaw tenses as she says that. “And, um, it didn’t work out. Well, at first, actually, it did. Kind of. He proposed to me about eighteen months ago, and I said yes.” Y/N looks down at her left ring finger, the only finger on her hands that has no ring tan line. “And then he started talking about me transferring to Stanford, leaving NYU, so I could be with him, and then that conversation changed to me dropping out altogether, so I could plan the wedding, get married, have kids, and just—just be what he wanted.” Her voice cracks in a mixture of hurt and anger, and she knows both emotions are apparent in her eyes when she meets Harry’s gaze. “He wanted a wife. He didn’t want me. So I sent back the ring about six months before I met you, and I haven’t heard from him since. The clothes are just…they’re left over from when he came to visit me. I know I should get rid of them, but it’s…hard, you know? To let go of someone…”

“I know.” Harry twists one of his rings around his finger, the same one that he always fidgets with, a plain silver band. “This is my dad’s wedding ring. I found it in my mum’s room before I moved to New York. I didn’t know she still had it, or why she still had it, and I don’t know why I took it, but I just looked at it and…felt like I needed it.”

Y/N sets down her drink before taking Harry’s hand in her own, rubbing her thumb over the band. “He’s your dad. It’s alright.”

Harry stares at their intertwined hands, and his voice is thick when he replies. “I’ve never told anyone that. About the ring, or my dad leaving. I never really talk about it.”

“I’m glad you told me.” Y/N keeps her voice soft as she moves closer to him. “I meant it when I said I wanted to know you. That means the bad as well as the good.”

“I know you say that now, but—but no one stays forever, Y/N.” Harry’s voice drops impossibly low. “Everyone leaves eventually. You will, too, once you see what I’m like.”

“I don’t care. I really don’t.” Y/N shakes her head fiercely. “I’ve seen what you’re like. I’ve seen you happy and angry and irritated and guarded, and I want it all. Do you know how long I’ve waited to feel this way about someone?” She plays with his fingers as she speaks, adoring the familiar warmth that she feels in his skin. “It was never like this with Parker.”

“You said you didn’t want a protector. And all I want to do is protect you.” Harry brings Y/N’s hand to his lips, kissing the inside of her wrist gently. “I don’t want to force something that you don’t want—”

“It’s different if we’re—if you and I—” Y/N flushes as she watches him kiss along her wrist and hand. “I’ll be your protector as much as you’ll be mine. We’ll protect each other. We’ll be equal.”

“Y/N, you’re so much—we’ll never be—”

“We’ll be equal.” Y/N repeats firmly, unfolding her legs from beneath her. She sits up on her knees right next to Harry, cupping his cheeks with both hands. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Can you give that to me?”

A soft breath leaves Harry’s lips, and it washes over her in the sweetest way. “Yes.” He says sincerely.

“Good.” Y/N swallows hard as a fire starts to burn in her core. “Will you give that to me?”

“Yes.” Harry’s hands shift to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him until she’s straddling his lap.

Y/N rubs her thumbs along Harry’s stubbled jaw. “Do you need me?”

Harry’s green irises flicker to Y/N’s pink lips and back again. She’s starting to get better at reading his eyes, she thinks, although she’s still not as good as she’d like to be. She still can’t see exactly what’s swirling inside them, but in this moment, she thinks she has an idea of it.

“Yes.” Harry says again, his hands moving up her back. “I need you.”

Y/N presses a chaste kiss over Harry’s forehead scar, down his temple, his cheek, his jaw, delighting in every soft breath and sigh that escapes him. “Do you want me?”

Her voice is barely above a whisper when she asks, and Harry matches her tone perfectly as his fingers press into her back. “More than anything.” He breathes, tilting his head back as she kisses his neck. “I want you more than anything.”

Y/N kisses across his neck, down to his collarbones, before traveling up the other side of his face. She kisses across Harry’s jaw again, his cheek, back to the scar-free side of his forehead, planting one last kiss in the center of it before pressing her own forehead to his. “Then kiss me.” She whispers, half panting the words.

Harry’s breath is just as ragged as hers as one of his hands tangles in her sleep-mussed hair, pulling them together until their lips meet. The contrast between the softness of his lips and the roughness of his stubble delights her, and Y/N finds herself pressing closer and closer to him just to feel it more. Her arms wrap around his shoulders as she tries to get as close to him as possible. After spending so long waiting, she wants to feel him close to her. She wants to be his, in every sense of the word.

A wrecked moan falls from Y/N’s mouth as Harry’s teeth graze her lips, his tongue immediately soothing the spot after he nips at her. He repeats the action over and over, anything to hear her moan again, and Y/N has to pull away to collect herself. She’s not sure if it’s the whiskey or Harry, but her head is spinning in the best way.

Undeterred, Harry’s lips move to her neck, kissing and nipping just as much as they did before. “Is this alright?” He mutters between kisses, his hands pushing up her hoodie to get a grip on her bare skin. “I-I’ll stop if it’s—”

“Don’t you dare.” Y/N moans, throwing her head back to allow him better access. “If you stop now, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Noted.” Harry mumbles the word against her jugular, letting his teeth scrape her skin before sucking over the spot. A guttural moan slips from Y/N’s mouth as a shock runs through her, and she can feel the smirk on Harry’s lips as he licks over the mark he’s made.

The fabric of Harry’s shirt is soft to the touch when Y/N gathers it in her fists, tugging on it enough to get Harry’s attention. “Take it off.” She says in a low voice, her eyes locking with Harry’s as he pulls away from her neck. “Doctor’s orders.”

A groan rolls out from the back of Harry’s throat. “God, that’s so fucking hot.” He mutters, kissing her once more. “In a totally respectful and non-objectifying way.”

Y/N laughs into the kiss, tugging on the hem of his shirt again. “Mhmm. Just take it off, will you?”

Harry’s hands replace her own as he tugs his shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor before attempting to kiss Y/N again. Y/N, however, has other plans, and begins to run her hands down Harry’s chest.

“I’ve wanted to do this for weeks.” She murmurs, tracing her fingers over his tattoos. “So handsome…” She scratches her nail over Harry’s butterfly tattoo, adoring how his eyelids flutter at the feeling.

“That feels so…” Harry closes his eyes completely, letting his head rest on the back of the couch to fully lose himself in Y/N’s touches. “Keep going.”

Y/N leans in and kisses his neck again, spreading the pecks all along his collar bones and shoulders while her fingers continue to trace the contours of Harry’s body. She works them over his chest, grazing over his nipples just enough to make his body jump beneath her.

“Is that…?” She begins, trailing off as she touches them again. Harry doesn’t jump as much this time, but there’s an undeniable hitch in his breath.

“Feels good.” He says thickly, his fingers digging into her back in the best way possible. “Yeah. Really good.”

Y/N nods, tweaking them one last time before she continues her exploration down his abdomen. She runs one finger lightly around his belly button, and feels the shiver that runs through Harry as she continues down the light trail of hair situated between his two vine tattoos.

“I love these.” She whispers, her fingers taking their time as they touch them. “They’re some of my favourite tattoos of yours.”

Harry’s eyes open, and the tenderness in his green eyes is unmistakable. “You have favourites?”

Y/N flushes as she nods. “I-I do. I like your cross tattoo. And your mermaid. And these…” Y/N raises one hand to touch over his collar bones again. “What does this year mean?”

“It’s my mum’s birth year.” Harry admits as one of his hands begins to play with Y/N’s hair. “I got it last year.”

Y/N knows that her eyes match the tenderness in Harry’s, and she kisses him once more before continuing to move her hand lower. She traces her finger over the buckle of his belt as her teeth tug on Harry’s lip lightly.

“Can I?” She asks gently, her breath blowing across his lips. “Please?”

Harry strokes her cheek, letting the back of his knuckles drag across her skin. Y/N leans into his touch wholeheartedly, wanting Harry to know that she’s never once been afraid of his hands and what they can do.

“Is it the Doctor’s orders?” Harry asks, his teasing tone disguising the need in his voice.

Y/N lets out a light laugh, and it’s then that she knows that she and Harry are meant to be. When two people can be so intimate together while still laughing and giggling and teasing each other…Y/N knows that’s something good, despite never having it before.

“Yes.” She works her hand over his belt, and the only sounds in the room are their laboured breathing and the gentle clinking of the metal buckle. When it’s finally free, Y/N busies herself with the button and zipper of his jeans.

“Wait.” Harry grasps her wrist carefully, stopping her before she can attempt to pull his jeans down. “I didn’t—I came here to take care of you.” He murmurs as he pushes her hands away. His own hands move to Y/N’s thighs, grasping them tightly before picking her up with ease. Y/N gasps, her hands flying to his shoulders as Harry carries her to her bed, laying her down gently on the mussed sheets.

“Let me take care of you.” He repeats the sentiment as his hands move to the hem of her hoodie, slowly and carefully removing the article of clothing, along with the tank top underneath. Y/N knows that his pace is intentional, giving her plenty of time to refuse, but stopping Harry is the last thing she wants to do.

When her top is off, the first thing Harry does is kiss her. He moves her carefully as he does, so her head is supported by her pillows. Y/N doesn’t notice his hands moving from her waist until—

“Why don’t we just move this guy until we’re done, hm?” There’s a trace of laughter in Harry’s voice as he holds up the teddy bear. “I don’t think I’ll be able to look him in the eye after if he watches.”

Y/N clears her throat as an embarrassed flush quickly works its way up her neck. “Alright, just—here—” She takes the teddy bear from Harry, dropping it to the side of the bed. “And he has a name, you know. It’s Paddington.”

“Paddington?” Harry’s laughter is obvious now, and he buries his head in her neck as he attempts to stifle it. “That is so fucking adorable—”

“Can you not laugh at my teddy bear when you’re about to fuck me?” Y/N asks, voice exasperated and strained.

Harry’s laughter dies off as he pulls his face back up, his eyes darker than they were a minute ago. “I’m about to fuck you, am I?”

Y/N clears her throat, and as Harry’s gaze finally sweeps down her body, she gets the overwhelming urge to cross her arms and cover her exposed self. “You are. At least, you were, until you got distracted.”

“I’m not distracted.” Harry traces a single finger down Y/N’s sternum, and Y/N can’t hold back the choked gasp in her throat.

“I’m completely focused.” Harry adds on, and before Y/N can gather herself enough to give a retort, his mouth is on her breast.

With her hands immediately tangling in Harry’s long curls, Y/N lets out another whine in sync with her tugging. “Harry—!”

Although Y/N doesn’t have her eyes on the boxer, she can feel the smirk that’s on his face, and just knows that he’s adoring the way that she’s reacting to him. While there’s a small part of Y/N that’s irritated at his smugness, there’s a bigger part of her telling her to react more. Moan more. Pull his hair more. Anything to make him happy.

Y/N wants to make him happy.

While his mouth works over one breast, his hand works over the other. Harry’s ring covered fingers tweak her nipple, tugging and twisting just enough to work more whimpers out of her. When his teeth graze one nipple at the same time that he tugs on the other, Y/N drags the nails of one hand down Harry’s warm back, and it quickly becomes her turn to delight in the whine that leaves his mouth.

It almost becomes a competition then, with both of them working to see who can make the other moan more. Harry switches his mouth to Y/N’s other breast while Y/N alternates between tugging on his hair and pushing her hand down the waistband of his jeans, her fingers rubbing over his defined hip bones. The competition, however, yields no winners, and is quickly forgotten in the pursuit of pulling the other closer, touching them harder, dragging them deeper into the safe space they’ve created on Y/N’s bed.

When Harry lets Y/N’s nipple fall out of his mouth, his lips are bright red, shining with saliva almost as much as his eyes are shining with lust. Y/N quickly pulls him up to kiss her, and fingers one of his curls as she takes a shaking breath.

“I’ve never felt so good from just…” Her voice wavers for a moment, and a new wave of blush heats her cheeks. “Just…you know.”

Harry brushes a thumb over her cheekbone, delighting in the heat he feels beneath his fingers. “Yeah?” His accent is thick. “Then you’re going to love what I’m going to do next.”

Y/N knows exactly what Harry means, but a surprised gasp still leaves her as he quickly pulls himself down her body, situating himself easily between her legs. Within a moment, her pajama shorts are tossed to the side, and Harry is directing her movements.

“Bend your knees for me, love, just—yeah. Just like that. And spread them wider.” He coaxes her gently, helping to guide her body into the position he wants. The pleasure on his face at the sight of Y/N’s uncovered cunt is evident as he inhales deeply, laying his stubbled cheek onto one of her thighs as he just stares at her.

Y/N’s chest heaves as she glances down at the sight. Harry hasn’t even touched her core, and yet she’s never been more turned on in her entire life. Something about the look in his eyes as he stares at her bare cunt drives her insane, and Y/N knows that she’ll never experience this with anyone else. No one else will ever compare to Harry, and she doesn’t want them to. She just wants him.

Harry’s breath is hot on her wet core when he lets out a sigh, his hands continuously rubbing her thighs, up to her pelvis, and back down again. “Don’t even want to touch you.” He murmurs. “Just want to keep staring…”

“That—that’s sweet, but—” Y/N swallows hard as she shifts on the bed. “I need you to touch me, Harry. I need it.”

“Yeah?” Harry cocks an eyebrow at her, that smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth again. “Good. I need it, too.”

And then his mouth is on her, and Y/N loses herself completely.

It’s not even that Harry is so wonderfully talented at cunnilingus that drives Y/N insane—although, honestly, that’s definitely a significant factor. No, the thing that makes Y/N fall apart is how obvious it is that Harry loves doing it.

From the moment Harry’s tongue flicks over her clit, he’s making as many sounds as she is. Moans and whimpers fall out of his mouth in abundance while his lips and tongue work Y/N over, and while most of it is incoherent sounds of pleasure, Y/N can decipher the occasional phrase.

“Taste so fucking good—”

“Fuck, Y/N—”

“So bloody sweet—”

“Tug on my hair harder—”

Y/N does as he requests, gripping his curls by the roots as she pulls harder in response to his tongue dipping into her entrance. It briefly occurs to her that Harry may have a pain kink, which explains a lot about him and his career choice, she thinks, but then Harry’s fingers begin to aid his mouth, and Y/N can’t think at all.

While one of his hands pumps two fingers in and out of Y/N slowly, and while his mouth is still firmly suctioned over her clit, Harry’s other hand moves up to her pelvis, pressing down on top of it to keep her in place. “You’re a squirmer, aren’t you?” Harry mutters, and the flat of his tongue licks over her clit just to prove the point.

Y/N’s body jumps again as another guttural moan leaves her lips. “Harry, I—fuck—”

Harry hums against her. “I know. You’re alright, love. You can let go.”

And when Harry sucks on her clit again, crooking his fingers inside of her, she does as he says.

Incoherent whimpers and whines fall from Y/N’s mouth as she squirms on the bed, held only in place by Harry’s firm hand on her tummy. Something in the pressure is comforting, and it’s the only thing that keeps her grounded to her bed as waves of pleasure roll over her.

Harry’s mouth moves from her clit to her thigh, pressing gentle kisses along the tender skin, which is red from his stubble scraping against it. Although his fingers have stilled inside her, he doesn’t pull them out just yet.

“I can feel you squeezing me.” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s soaked cunt to her heaving chest. “’S nice.”

Another flood of warmth passes through Y/N’s core when he says that, and she pants out what’s meant to be a laugh, but instead turns into a whimper. “Fuck, H…”

Harry’s eyes brighten from between her thighs as he presses another kiss to her thigh. “You’ve never called me that before.” He comments quietly. “I like it.”

“We’ve never done a lot of this before.” Y/N squirms again, “This is all new.”

“It’ll take some time to get used to it.” Harry presses on her tummy again, a reminder to keep still as he slowly pulls his fingers out of her. Y/N bites her lip to hold back the whine that threatens to leave her mouth, and watches with heavy eyelids as Harry sucks his own fingers into his mouth.

Despite the trembling from her orgasm, Y/N manages to sit up on her elbows to look at Harry between her legs. He seems quite content there, his black eye a stark contrast against the red of his cheeks and lips, one hand holding her as the other runs over his own lips. Y/N snaps a picture in her mind to remember later on, when Harry has someone else’s blood dripping from his fingertips. A reminder that this man lives within the fighter, underneath every wall and safeguard that he had to build to be able to protect and provide for his family.

Y/N reaches down and cups Harry’s cheek in her hand. Although there’s a tenderness growing in the pit of her stomach, the need is still there alongside it. “Lay down for me.” She murmurs, gently grazing her fingers along the edge of his black eye.

Harry doesn’t speak as he moves, and the room falls quiet again, a brief break between the symphony of pleasure that they composed only a moment earlier. He takes his place on the pillows next to Y/N, and she kisses him again before moving down the bed.

Y/N sits on her knees by his side, allowing her fingers to run over his vine tattoos and down his pelvic bones. She loves the way Harry’s breath flutters, how it hitches when she uses her nails, and delights in how a quiet moan leaves his lips when she wraps her hand around his warm cock.

He’s already so hard from eating her out, with precum dripping from his flushed tip. Y/N pumps him a few times with her hand, adjusting to his size and weight before leaning her head down and licking over his slit.

“Christ—” The word falls out of Harry’s mouth involuntarily, and his cheeks redden more at the outburst. Y/N rubs his tummy with her free hand, assuring him that it’s alright without actually saying the words.

While one of Harry’s hands is running through his own curls, he brings the other down to play with Y/N’s hair, helping to guide her mouth as she takes him more and more. Her tongue runs up and down his length, tracing the veins that throb beneath his skin, and Y/N loves how Harry tugs on her hair harder when she does it.

Y/N pulls up from his cock to give her jaw a break, continuing to pump him as she looks up with him. His arm is thrown over his eyes now, and his chest is rising and falling in rapid succession. Y/N can tell he’s close, so she slows down her movements until her hand is just lazily pumping him.

Sensing the change in momentum (and his orgasm slipping away), Harry removes his arm, looking down at Y/N with lustful eyes. “Why’d you stop?” He asks, his voice cracking in the middle of the question that he knows the answer to.

“Because I want you.” Y/N presses one last kiss to the top of his cock before letting go. She crawls up the bed again and reaches over to her bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a condom. Her fingers pause over the lube, remembering the last time that she had used it with Harry, and she can’t help the smile that flickers over her face as she holds up the bottle. “Remember this?”

Harry laughs breathlessly as he rubs his eyes. “Bloody hell, don’t remind me. I was a fucking mess that night.”

“A bit, but I didn’t mind.” Y/N sets the lube back in the drawer before shutting it. “That was the night that I knew I wanted you.”

“Was it?” Harry raises an eyebrow, the teasing grin back on his face as pushes his sweaty curls out of his face. “Took you that long, hm?”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she rips the condom packaging with her teeth, retrieving the latex disc from inside. She pumps Harry once more before sliding the condom on, making sure that it’s positioned correctly. “Shut up.”

“Are you really telling me to shut up while you’ve got your hand on my cock?” Harry laugh again, and while Y/N’s heart flutters at the sound, she does her best to keep her face from showing it.

“I am.” Y/N throws her leg over him, straddling his lower stomach as she leans down to kiss him. The teasing tone between them fades into one of lust and affection and need as Harry’s lips move against hers, and they’re both panting when Y/N pulls away to press her forehead against his.

“Are you comfortable like this?” She asks, worry seeping into her tone. “I know your ribs are still bothering you a bit, so I figured that this would be—”

Harry cuts her off with another kiss, this one wilder and more passionate than the last. “I’m fine, love. You don’t need to worry about me.” He says, despite the flutter in his stomach at the idea of Y/N worrying about him.

“I always worry, H.” Y/N reaches underneath to grip his cock, rubbing the tip of it over her slit as she balances herself with one hand on his pelvis. Harry’s hands grip her hips to give her more stability. “You’re so—fuck—reckless that it drives me—” Y/N gasps loudly as she begins to sink down on Harry’s cock. “Insane.”

Harry’s first instinct at the feeling of Y/N’s warm walls hugging his cock is to throw his head back, close his eyes, and let the pleasure take over. However, he uses every ounce of willpower he has to do the opposite, and thanks God that he does, because he gets to see Y/N take his cock for the first time.

Y/N’s entire body is flushed, and she knows that the heat practically rolling off of her is because of Harry. Everything that she’s feeling, from the fullness in her core that extends to her stomach, to the fluttering of her body, to the overwhelming sense of something just being right, is all because of Harry.

After giving herself a moment to adjust to his size, Y/N begins to move. Harry helps guide her hips up and down slowly, and she decides from the first moment that she’s going to take her time building up her speed. She wants this to last.

Y/N knows that Harry has the capacity to fuck her. She knows that, if she asked, he’d flip her over and bend her over the edge of the bed and fuck her as fast as he possibly could until she screamed his name. But, as much as the thought intrigues her, that’s not what she wants right now. There will be time for fucking later, she thinks. There will be time for loud moans and teeth clicking together and bruises in the shape of a lover’s hand left on thighs and necks. Right now, all she wants is to feel every inch of Harry inside of her, and to listen to his quiet yet desperate moans as she gradually increases her pace.

With one of his hands still guiding her hips, Harry gently grips the back of Y/N’s neck, pulling her chest down to press against his. Their lips find each other quickly, kissing and nipping as Y/N feels herself beginning to fall apart.

“H.” She breathes against his lips. “I’m so close…” A choked moan stumbles out of her mouth as Harry’s hand shifts from her neck to her clit, rubbing small circles with two nimble fingers.

“I can feel it.” Harry’s breath is hot on her ear as he presses open mouthed kisses to her neck. “Can feel you squeezing me, love…being so good for me…”

Y/N bites her lip hard, almost enough to draw blood as the movement of her hips begins to stutter. “I-I want you to—Harry—” she digs her nails into his shoulder when Harry’s fingers speed up, and within a moment, another orgasm is sending shockwaves through her body.

Harry can tell the moment it happens, and a grunt leaves his throat as he begins to lift his hips to meet her movements. “That’s a good girl, love—breathe through it, that’s it…” Harry buries his face into Y/N’s neck, inhaling the scent of her perfume and sweat that’s more intoxicating than anything else he’s ever smelled. “Fuck, Y/N—” His words cut off in a strangled moan as her walls squeeze his sensitive member.

Although she’s barely come down from her high, Y/N takes it upon herself to guide Harry through his orgasm like he’s done for her. One of her hands moves from his marked shoulder to his hair, pushing the sweaty curls back from his eyes in a repeated motion as she murmurs in his ear. “Let go, H…feels so good…” She can feel the jerking of his hips as he finishes inside the condom, and for a split second, she wishes that there wasn’t a barrier of latex between the two of them, despite knowing that protection is mandatory.

Y/N waits until Harry’s managed to catch his breath before she carefully climbs down from him, missing the feeling of him inside her the moment she’s empty. She lays down on her rumpled sheets next to his exhausted body, and hopes that she looks just as pretty in her post-sex haze as Harry.

Now that she’s begun to touch him, she can’t stop. Y/N’s hands continue to rub tenderly over his sweat-soaked chest, feeling the thumping beat of his heart beneath her as Harry carefully removes and ties off the used condom. Although a small grumble leaves her when he gets up to throw it away, she can’t help but smile when he returns with two glasses of water in his hands.

“Here.” Harry hands her a glass before getting back on the bed, situating his naked form back into the position he was in a moment ago. “You need to hydrate. Doctor’s orders.”

Y/N lets out a breathless laugh before taking a sip of the cool liquid. “So you’re the doctor now, huh?”

“God, no. I’m not nearly as smart as you. I’m just smart enough to remember what you tell me.” Harry gulps down his own glass, setting it on the bedside table once it’s empty. His arms then move to encircle Y/N’s body, pulling their chests together so her weight lies on top of him.

Y/N doesn’t miss the small wince that the movement causes, and she sets her own glass down before moving back to her position next to him. “You need to be more careful.” She murmurs, resuming her motion of rubbing over his chest. She’s not sure why the motion is so soothing, but she doesn’t fight it, loving the feeling of Harry’s warm skin beneath her hand. “Patrick won’t forgive me if I put his best fighter out of commission.”

“No, he probably won’t.” Harry muses, settling for wrapping one arm around Y/N’s body. “He might fire you.”

“And then who will clean up your messes?” She cocks an eyebrow teasingly. “Or clean you up, when you’re a mess?”

“I’d just have to stumble my way to your apartment in the middle of the night again.” A laugh rumbles deep in Harry’s chest. “And then after you bandage me up, we can have a quick shag. It’ll be a nice routine.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Mhmm. Nice try.”

Harry’s laughter trails off after a moment as his fingers begin to trace shapes on Y/N’s back. “Seriously, though…” His eyes grow sober. “How do you want to…handle this?”

Y/N bites her lip. “How do you want to handle this?”

A sigh leaves Harry’s lips. “I want…you. I want you to be mine. And I don’t want to hide it, but if you feel like that’s best, then…”

“It’s just—I don’t know. It’s complicated.” Y/N’s eyes focus on the G tattoo on Harry’s shoulder. She wonders if it’s for Harry’s sister, and then wonders if Harry would ever tattoo her initial on his body. “Yeah. Complicated.”

“You’re nervous about Patrick knowing.” Harry states simply.

Y/N nods. “He specifically told me not to get involved with any boxers. He said that…no good men come there.”

Harry’s hand moves over his jaw, scratching at his stubble. “Yeah. He wasn’t wrong.”

His answer bothers Y/N, and she moves to sit up more in bed, making him look her in the eyes. “You’re a good man, Harry. I know that.”

“I’m not.” Harry shakes his head once, his voice growing rougher. “I have a lot of shit that I’m…trying to work through. I’m not that good.” When he sees how Y/N’s face shifts at his words, his tone changes. “But I’d never…that has nothing to do with you. Any of my issues, my pride, my anger, anything like that, it’s all—it’s separate from you.” He cups her cheek gently. “I’d never hurt you.”

“I know that, Harry.” Y/N repeats as she places her hand over his, weaving their fingers together. “I trust you. I just wish you’d trust yourself.”

“I trust myself more when I’m with you.” Harry admits. “I’ve never really felt…regret for what I’ve done. The ring is an equal playing field, right? But that night when you said you thought I was too harsh…”

Y/N bites her lip. “Did that bother you?”

“I was worried I scared you off.” His eyes close for a moment as he remembers. “I thought…I don’t know. I thought you already disliked me just for being a boxer, and now I’m the boxer that breaks bones, and there’s no way you’d ever want to be around me.”

“I probably shouldn’t want it.” Y/N admits. “When you phrase it like that. But I’ve told you before…you’re different when you’re with me.”

“Only with you. Only for you.” Harry’s voice grows tender as he holds her close to him. “So if you want to keep it private, I understand. I just want you to be mine.”

Y/N’s finger brushes over one of Harry’s rings. It’s a beautifully sculpted silver rose, and there’s something so wonderful to her in how Harry chooses to wear flowers on the hands that have done so much damage.

She twists the ring around his finger before pulling it off. It’s too big to fit on her ring or middle finger, so after a moment of consideration, she slips it onto her thumb. “Then I’m yours.”

Harry’s eyes darken at the sight of Y/N with his ring on her finger. “Yeah. You’re mine.”

The feeling of Harry’s ring on her finger makes Y/N feel so complete, and she wants to share it with him, so she ignores Harry’s whine of protest as she climbs out of bed to walk to her dresser. A little ceramic dish with her jewelry in it sits on top, and she sorts through the rings and bracelets before setting on something that he can wear while in the ring. She cups it in her palms before returning to bed, an excited but shy smile on her face.

“Here.” She places it in Harry’s hand. “You can put this on your chain with your cross.”

The silver caduceus looks small in Harry’s palm, and he brings it closer to his eyes to examine it. “What is it?”

“It’s a caduceus. It’s the medical symbol, the one I wear on my jacket to the ring.” Y/N explains, her cheeks reddening at her words. “It’s from Greek mythology, but doctors adopted it, and—yeah. Just something to show that…you’re mine, too.”

A small smile plays on the corner of Harry’s lips. “Will you put it on me?”

Y/N nods, and although her fingers are shaking a bit, she manages to undo the clasp on Harry’s chain, and slips the pendant on before refastening it around his neck. She settles the caduceus and cross pendants on his chest, just between his two swallow tattoos.

“It looks pretty on you.” She murmurs, her hand brushing down his abdomen. “Really nice.”

“It’ll be my good luck charm in the ring.” Harry brings her hand to his mouth, kissing over the rose ring. “I won’t take it off, as long as you don’t take my ring off. Deal?”

“Deal.” Y/N lays her head back down on Harry’s chest. “Now get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

A playful groan falls out of Harry’s mouth. “Is that going to be a new thing? Are you going to get me to do everything by saying it’s doctor’s orders?”

“I wouldn’t have to if you took better care of yourself.” Y/N matches his playful tone. “But we both know that you have a tendency to ignore your instincts—”

“My instincts are good!”

“Like your instinct to fight with a sprained hand was good?”

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitches. “Fine. Let’s go to sleep.”

Sunlight is beginning to spill through the curtains as Harry closes his eyes, bathing his entire face in a golden glow. His pale skin glows under the light, save for the purplish bruise that rings one of his eyes. Y/N presses a gentle kiss to the darkened area before settling herself down in Harry’s arms.

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Plum Cobbler

Steve x Barnes!reader, Bucky x platonic!reader

Summary: What happens when Steve confronts the woman who's been sitting outside the compound every Saturday for a month?

Warnings: mentions parental death, some cursing

Word Count: 6315

a/n: This really took on a mind of its own. I was going to make it a series, but I feel like this is the whole story.

Masterlist

Nervous didn't even begin to describe how you were feeling. Sitting in your car, just outside of the entrance gate to the Avenger's compound was never somewhere you thought you'd be. Not until two months ago, when you found your grandmas old scrapbooks.

Of course, you don't know how to get inside. Honestly, you should have seen this coming. Why would just anyone be able to walk up to their door?

"Who are you?" The sudden question startled you, causing you to jump and hit your head on the roof of your car. You turned to look at the source of the voice, shrinking under her watchful gaze.

The one and only Natasha Romanoff was standing outside your car, glaring at you as if she was ready to drop everything to take you out.

"Oh, um. My name is Y/N L/N. I just wanted to talk to Bucky..." Her glare only grew stronger as you revealed why you were there.

"Barnes doesn't talk to strangers." Before you could explain why, she was gone. You watched her walk into the compound until she wasn't in your view anymore.

"Well, that went horribly." You mumbled to yourself. Now what? Should you just sit there until someone else comes out? Will anyone come out?

"So who is she?" Clint asked as soon as Nat got back inside.

"Why is she here?" Sam added on.

"Said her name is Y/N L/N, and she wants to talk to Bucky." Nat rolled her eyes.

"Friday, run a background check on F/N L/N." Tony asked of the AI. "What? You can never be too careful, and people shouldn't know how to get here." He explained given the questioning looks from the rest of the group.

"Y/N L/N, 27, daughter of the deceased Kathleen and Grant L/N. She owns a bookstore in Brooklyn, passed down through her family. No criminal record." Friday responded quickly.

"Sounds normal enough, probably a fan?" Tony suggested, looking around the room.

"A persistent one. She's been here for hours." Steve looked out the window, still seeing your car just outside the gate. "How did she find the entrance?"

Everyone shared similar looks, unsure how a seemingly normal civilian found the gate.

"Excellent question, Capsicle. Friday, got any ideas?" Tony, as usual, turned to the AI for answers.

"Based on GPS data from her car, she drove around upstate New York for eight hours every Saturday for the last 6 weeks until she came across the side road leading to the compound."

"Either she's really good at looking normal, or she's just normal." Nat added on, still slightly suspicious.

"Well, she just left. I guess we're not getting any answers today." Steve said from his position still looking out the window.

You came back every Saturday for a month. You didn't know if anything would come of it, but you'd be damned if you didn't try. After your parent's deaths, you thought you had no family left. Finding out you were related to Bucky gave you a lifeline. Something to cling to when you felt alone.

So far, nobody else had come to talk to you. You didn't even know if Bucky knew you were there for him.

The fifth Saturday, you pulled your car up to the gate at 9 am, sticking to your makeshift schedule of waiting outside for the entire day. They had to at least be curious as to why you kept coming back.

Unfortunately for you, the weather upstate today was not the same as the weather in Brooklyn.

Around 10:30, it started to rain. Just a sprinkling, nothing you couldn't handle.

You listened to music, read, ate the lunch you packed, played games on your phone, anything to pass the time. You weren't going to force your way inside, but you were definitely going to show that you were interested.

Typically, you would leave at 5:30. It gave you enough time to drive home and heat up dinner, plus you had to check in on your cat.

Today, however, was a different story. Around 5:15, it started pouring. Sheets of water were coming down around you, completely cutting off any visibility through the windshield.

You figured you'd just wait out the rain, but when it didn't let up by 6, you were getting nervous.

"She's still here." Steve walked into the kitchen, announcing his news to the room.

"I'm not surprised. It's not exactly peak driving conditions out there." Sam easily responded, glancing out the window.

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to why?" Steve asked again, pushing the same conversation as always.

Nearly everyone in the room rolled their eyes, sick of repeating the same things.

"Look, we figured if we ignored her, she'd eventually stop. Clearly, that might not be working. If you're so curious, feel free to go ask her." Tony gave in, eager to move on from the discussion of you.

Steve contemplated his choices for all of 2 seconds before grabbing an umbrella and walking down the driveway.

You had your head leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed, listening to the rain. Of course you would get stuck here. Why didn't you ever check the weather?

You shrieked when a knock sounded on your passenger side window, not having expected anyone, especially in the rain.

Mr. America himself pointed to the door, gesturing for you to unlock it. You sat up quickly, rushing to hit the unlock button.

He quickly opened the door, shutting his umbrella and lowering himself into the small car.

You were utterly speechless. After your brief encounter with Natasha, you didn't really expect anyone to come talk to you.

Sure, you came back every week, but it was more so to fill the lonely hours you would have normally spent with your parents at the bookstore.

You had other employees to run the shop on Saturdays, allowing you to come here instead.

"Why are you here?" He sounded more curious than anything. Clearly he didn't perceive you as a threat, which was good because you had zero fighting experience.

"To talk to Bucky." Your voice was quiet, unsure how much you should share.

"I know that. Why?" He had fully turned in his seat to look at you, his large frame filling nearly the entire car.

"Well, I found something a few months ago that I thought he should know." You stuttered through your response, mildly intimidated by the man in front of you.

"And that something is?" He questioned further, genuinely curious as to what you want to tell his best friend.

You hesitated, eyes flitting around the car, looking at anything but him. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair before speaking again.

"Look, if you ever want to actually talk to him, you should tell me. Buck's been through hell, he won't just talk to anyone. Especially if he has no reason to."

During your conversation, the rain finally let up. You decided to take that as a sign.

"Can I show you something?" You finally looked him in the eye, nearly forgetting why you were even here at the sight of his bright blue eyes.

"Is it the reason you've been out here every Saturday for over a month?" He joked with you, helping to calm your nerves.

You nodded in response, unsure if you could even speak while still looking into his eyes.

"Then please."

You tore your eyes from his face, throwing the car into reverse and backing out of the spot you've claimed as your own. You turned around, heading back to your apartment in Brooklyn.

"Wha- where are we going?" He's clearly surprised by your actions, but he doesn't seem worried.

"I'm going to show you what I found, and hopefully you'll let me talk to Bucky." You paused for a minute, thinking. "Although, really I guess it should be his choice. Maybe you can just give him a message for me, and if he doesn't want to talk I'll leave you all alone."

The idea of never getting to know Bucky, you're only remaining family, hurts, but it's got to be his decision.

Steve just nods in response, still slightly wary of your reasons for wanting to talk to Bucky.

When you're a few minutes away from your apartment, you decide to give him some context.

"You probably already know a lot about me, but let me explain a few things." He silently nods, encouraging you to continue.

"My parents died three and a half months ago." You immediately felt like crying, but did your best to hold it in. Of course, Steve didn't miss the break in your voice. "It was a car accident. The weather was bad. They lost control of the car. They were both pronounced dead on the scene." You parked the car, turning slightly to look at him.

"They were the only family I've ever had, and the were both just gone." You turned and opened the car door, taking a moment to wipe the tears from your eyes. You gestured for him to follow you, locking the car and heading inside your apartment building.

"We were really close. I spent every Saturday at the bookstore with them." You wiped the tears again as the elevator doors closed.

You didn't chance looking at Steve, knowing you would break down at the look of pity.

"I had to go through the stuff at their house. You know, decide what to bring here, what to put in storage, what to get rid of. I found some old scrapbooks, I think from my great grandma."

You lead him into your apartment, locking the door and immediately heading to the kitchen to feed your cat. After you set down the food, you moved to the couch. You had the scrapbooks on the coffee table, having taken every opportunity to look through them.

"I never knew her. My parents didn't talk about her either, I'm not sure if they knew who she was. Her name was Rebecca." You waited a beat, to see if he would understand. When he remained quiet, you handed him one of the books, open to a page with a picture of Steve, Bucky, and Rebecca. "Rebecca Barnes."

You waited again, letting the information sink in for him. After a few minutes he smiled.

"I remember this day." He looked at you, a wide smile on his face. "It was a few days before Bucky was enrolled. We had a picnic." He continued to reminisce, looking through the other pictures in the scrapbook.

"Maybe it's selfish, maybe he won't want to know me, but when I found out I had more family, I wanted to find him." Again, tears pooled in your eyes. "I, I just don't want to be alone."

Steve's smile faltered as he realized what you've been going through, and how you've been doing it alone.

"Hey, I'm sure he'll want to talk to you." He reached out to place a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you.

"Really?" Your eyes were still watery, but a small smile grew on your face.

"I think so. Bucky was really close with his sister when we were young." This time, Steve's eyes grew watery, memories of his youth playing through his mind.

You couldn't take the sight of him being sad, so you pulled him into a hug. He came willingly, letting you bury your face in his chest. He lowered his head so it was overtop of yours, relishing in the comfort of your hug.

You pulled away a few minutes later, not wanting to overstep, but the feeling of his arms around your waist didn't let you go far.

"Thank you for coming out to my car." You laughed, trying to lighten the mood. His face was so close to yours, you could make out the individual shades of blue in his eyes.

"Thank you for sharing your story with me." He whispered back, not wanting to break the moment.

You're not sure how long you would've stayed like that, but a loud crack of thunder jolted you apart.

"What the-" You mumbled, walking over to the window to look outside. Steve followed close behind you, also curious about the weather.

It was now pouring, lightning and thunder cracking overhead.

"I guess the storm followed us to Brooklyn." He joked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I guess so." You looked at the clock, taking in the late hour.

Steve must've followed your line of sight, because he spoke up. "It's getting late, I should probably go."

You immediately shook your head, your fear of travelling in bad weather shining through. "I can't let you leave when it's like this. It's not safe. You, um, you can stay here tonight. You can sleep in my room. I'll sleep on the couch." You grew more confident as you kept talking.

"I couldn't impose like that." Steve shook his head, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"Steve, it's not safe to travel when it's raining like that. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you." Your voice grew tighter, trying not to flashback to the day your parents died.

Steve seemed to realize why you were so worried about the weather, ultimately deciding to agree to stay so you wouldn't worry about him.

"Okay, okay. I'll stay here, but you sleep in your bed. I'll be fine on the couch." He refused your offer, not wanting to force you to spend a night on the couch.

"First of all, thank you. Second of all, you are sleeping in the bed. You're like two feet taller than me." You exaggerated your height difference, but you were trying to make a point. "You won't even be able to lay down on the couch. I take naps here all the time, it's super comfortable." You argued back, unwilling to allow Captain America himself sleep on your tiny ass couch.

"You know, I should've expected you to be this stubborn. You spent five weeks waiting outside the compound with no contact. Plus you're related to Bucky" He laughed to himself, slightly shaking his head. "Fine, I'll sleep in the bed."

You smiled victoriously, jumping up from the couch. "Yay! Do you need anything? I have spare toothbrushes under the sink, and I can probably find you some clothes to sleep in. There's some snacks in the kitchen if you get hungry. Oh! And Carrot might try to lay in the bed with you, but I'll try to keep her out here." You rambled, trying to make sure he was comfortable.

"Carrot?" He smiled at your rambling, finding it adorable.

"Yes! Carrot is my cat. She's a cuddler, so consider yourself warned." You paused, eyes growing wide. "You're not allergic to cats are you? I think there's probably cat fur all over my room."

He laughed again. "No, I don't think the super soldier serum left any room for allergies." He quipped.

You smacked a hand to your forehead. "Duh! Anyway, do you need anything?" You asked again, trying to calm your beating heart.

"Some clothes would be great, thank you." The way he smiled at you did nothing to soothe your nerves.

"Okay." You breathed out, finally taking a deep breath. "I'll go grab some, the bathroom is right here if you need it." You pointed it out on your way to your room. "I'm just gonna get changed real quick, and then I'll be back with your clothes."

He nodded again, watching as you turned and walked into what must be your room.

You quickly changed into a t-shirt and sleep shorts. It took a few minutes of searching through boxes, but eventually you found an old pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt for Steve to sleep in.

You made your way out of the bedroom, handing him the clothes.

"Here ya go. Like I said, there are extra toothbrushes under the sink in the bathroom, and don't hesitate to grab anything you need from the kitchen."

He eyed the clothes in his hands, wondering where they came from, but not wanting to ask.

Luckily for him, you could tell what he was wondering. "They were my dad's." A sad smile graced your face. "I- I sleep in them sometimes when I really wish I could talk to him."

"Thank you." Steve turned to go to bed, but changed his mind last minute. He set the clothes down on the couch, pulling you into another hug. "You know, I can tell your related to Buck. He always looks out for people too."

You blushed at the compliment, grateful he couldn't see your face. "Thank you, that really means a lot." You stayed like that until Steve pulled back to talk to you again.

"I can take you back to the compound tomorrow, if you want. Maybe introduce you to Bucky."

"Really?! You don't want to talk to him first? Or double check anything I told you?" You were shocked at how willing he was to introduce you to Bucky.

"I trust you. Plus, I think you should be the one to tell him." Steve didn't say it out loud, but he also thought you and Bucky would be good for each other.

Bucky had Steve to connect his past and present, but another person for him to rely on wouldn't hurt. And you clearly were looking for a family connection.

"I would love to. Thank you!" You hugged him again, although quicker this time. You jumped back, excited to collect everything you wanted to show him. "I have to find all the scrapbooks to show him!"

When you turned to start collecting things, Steve put a hand on your shoulder, essentially preventing you from moving.

"Why don't we get everything together in the morning? It's getting late and you should get some sleep." He understood how emotionally and physically draining it could be to relive a loss like yours.

"You're right. I should sleep." You tried to slow your mind down, but the prospect of meeting Bucky tomorrow filled you with a mix of excitement and nerves. You gathered your extra blankets and pillows, setting up a bed for yourself on the couch while he went into the bathroom.

You were snuggled in bed, ready to sleep when he came back out.

"Goodnight, Steve."

His heart contracted at how adorable you looked buried in blankets on the couch, but he did his best to ignore it. He'd only just met you after all.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

The next morning Steve woke up at 5, per usual. He didn't want to wake you up though, so, despite his natural tendencies to run 10 miles every Sunday morning, he stayed in bed.

That is, until he heard you shuffling around the apartment.

He poked his head out of the room first, trying to verify that you were indeed awake. When he saw you in the kitchen, he fully emerged intent on helping you with whatever you were doing.

"Good morning, you're an early riser?" His question was completely ignored. Granted you couldn't see him yet, but he didn't know why you would be ignoring him.

He made his way closer to you, tapping you on the shoulder to try and get you to interact with him.

You, in a mixture of surprise and fear, turned and threw an egg at him.

He looked at you in shock, while you stared in horror at what you had just done.

You took headphones out of your ears, explaining why you hadn't heard his question.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" You reached toward him with a dish towel, trying to wipe the egg off his (your dad's) shirt. "You just surprised me! I can get you another shirt!"

"It's fine, don't worry-" You ran out of the room anyway, grabbing another shirt of your dad's from the box in your room.

He couldn't help but laugh, oddly relieved that you weren't ignoring him.

When you reentered the kitchen, a shirtless Steve Rogers was washing your dad's shirt in the sink. You froze, taking in the sight of the man before you.

When he turned back around, your eyes took on a mind of their own, soaking in his toned chest and arms. You cleared your throat, shaking yourself out of your stupor to hand him the other shirt.

"Thanks." He smirked, but still blushed slightly before he put it on, ringing out the other shirt before handing it to you. "I didn't want the egg to stick to it since it was your dads, so i rinsed it off..." he trailed off, unsure if it was the right thing to say.

"That's really sweet, thank you. Especially because it was my fault there was even egg on it in the first place." You laughed, trying not to blush with embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it, really. I shouldn't have snuck up on you." He laughed as well, clearing any lingering tension. He took a look around the kitchen, taking in just how much stuff you had out.

"What are you making?" He smiled when you blushed again.

"Oh, I was making plum cobbler... I just, I read online that Bucky likes plums, so I thought I would bring him a cobbler." You blushed again, embarrassed by the admission.

"He does." Steve smiled, completely enamoured with your personality. "Did you want some help?"

"Actually, the cobblers are in the oven already. I was going to make breakfast next, though, so you can help with that." You smiled, noting how easy it was to spend time with him.

"Cobblers? I know Bucky's a super soldier, but one would have been plenty." He joked with you, moving to help scramble some eggs.

"Well, yeah. One is for him, but then I thought the other Avengers might be there and I didn't want to not have enough so I made three."

"You're too cute." The words slipped out before he could even think about what he was saying.

You blushed again, a frequent occurrence it seems when you're with Steve.

You uttered a quick thanks, trying to change the subject. "Do you always get up this early?"

He chuckled again. "Yeah, typically I don't need much sleep. I usually run in the mornings, try to clear my head."

The two of you fell into easy conversation, moving around each other effortlessly to make eggs, sausage, toast, and smoothies for breakfast.

When you finished eating, you collected the scrapbooks Bucky might want to see. You added his mom's wedding ring, the one your mom wore as well, to the box.

"What's that?" Steve pointed to the box, unsure if his assumption was correct.

You pulled out two scrapbooks, pointing to the near identical pictures of Bucky's mom and your mom after having been proposed to.

"My mom always told me her engagement ring was a family heirloom. I think it was his mom's ring too. I thought he might like to have it. As something to remember her by, ya know?"

You got teary eyed again. Thinking about how much he must miss his family combined with how much you miss your own parents was too much to handle.

You finished gathering everything, putting it all in a box to make for easier transportation. You took the cobblers out of the oven, packing them as well.

With a deep breath, you followed Steve back out to your car, ready to talk to Bucky.

"Where the hell is Steve?" Bucky nearly stormed into the kitchen.

"Whoa, calm down tinman. What's up?" Sam replied casually, pouring cereal into a bowl.

"Where is Steve? I was supposed to run with him this morning, but he wasn't in his room when I went to find him. I don't even like running this early. I literally only do it because it's what he prefers."

Sam laughed, enjoying anything that annoys Bucky. "Dude, chill. He probably just forgot you were going with him."

Tony walked into the kitchen as well, trying to tune out the whines coming from Bucky, but failing.

"That's what I though, but he's always back by now." Bucky huffed, annoyed with Sam for laughing.

"Who?" Tony asked, now slightly intrigued.

"Steve. I haven't seen him since yesterday." Bucky replied as he angrily ate an apple.

"Really?" Tony sounded mildly concerned, immediately alerting Sam and confusing Bucky.

"You don't think?" Sam asked, ignoring Bucky for the time being.

"I don't know!" Tony looked bewildered. "Friday, where is Capsicle?"

"Captain Rogers left yesterday evening with Y/N L/N." The AI easily replied.

"Who?" Bucky questioned the room, never having learned your name.

"You know the woman who's been sitting outside every Saturday?" Bucky nodded to Sam, unsure why he was bringing it up. "Well, Steve went to ask her why she was here last night."

"Nat told me she was just some fan, wanted to see you all." Bucky furrowed his brow, thinking over the new information on Steve's wearabouts.

"Well, yeah that's what we thought. Look, she said she wanted to talk to you specifically." Sam explained, ignoring the pointed glare from Tony.

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Bucky rose from his chair, annoyed at everyone now. "Now she's got Steve?"

"Relax, Steve can handle himself. She cleared her background check. We really don't have any reason to believe he's in danger." Tony's words were more to convince himself than anyone else. He's the one who said Cap should go check it out if he was so curious.

"Steve's too trusting. What if it was a trap?" Bucky questioned, glaring daggers at the other two men.

Before they could respond, Friday chimed in with more information.

"Captain Rogers just entered the elevator from the parking garage."

"See, he's fine." Tony glared back at Bucky, secretly relieved that Steve was fine.

Bucky just rolled his eyes before leaving, heading for the elevators to yell at Steve for ditching him this morning.

When the elevator doors opened, however, Steve was not alone.

"Hey, punk, why'd you ditch me- Oh. Who are you?" Bucky eyed you suspiciously, looking between you and Steve.

Before Bucky interrupted, Steve was trying to reassure you that everything would work out. He had a hand on your back, rubbing up and down to soothe your nerves.

His other arm was occupied by the box of scrapbooks, or else he probably would have hugged you again.

You were holding a large sheet pan, three pie dishes sitting on top.

Steve was blushing, a surefire sign Bucky had seen something he wasn't supposed to.

"Oh, um. Hi. My name is Y/N L/N." You froze, not thinking you would have to see him so soon. You could see the family resemblance between him, your great grandma, and your mom.

"The car girl." He nodded, trying to piece together the events of last night.

"Yep, that's me." You laughed nervously, unsure of what he already knew.

"Buck, do me a favor? Let us out of the elevator." Steve eyed him, mildly annoyed with the ambush.

Bucky moved to the side, allowing you and Steve to exit the elevator. You followed Steve down the hall to the kitchen, where you put the cobblers on the counter.

Sam and Tony were still there, eating various foods.

"Well, hello there." Tony greeted when he spotted you, intrigued by the development. He looked at Steve for an explanation.

"Y/N made plum cobbler." Steve said instead, moving his hand back to the small of your back.

Bucky's eyes lit up at the mention of plums, enough to momentarily distract him from Steve's actions.

"Oh, right!" You took a cobbler out of the dish, moving toward Bucky. "This one's for you, because I read that you liked plums." You handed him the dish, quickly moving back to the others. "I also made a peach and an apple for everyone else." You smiled at Tony and Sam, unknowingly leaning slightly into Steve.

"Why does he get a special cobbler?" Sam whined, eagerly reaching for the other dishes.

Suddenly, all eyes were on you. Well, except Sam's who were on the peach cobbler.

"Oh, um, well, I was hoping I could talk to you." You looked at Bucky nervously, unsure of how he would respond.

"Anyone who bakes me a plum cobbler can talk to me, Doll." Natasha chose that exact moment to enter the room.

"Who made plum cobbler?" She looked around the room, eyes narrowing in your direction. "How did you get in here?"

"I brought her." Steve smiled at you before walking over to Natasha. He whispered in her ear, just loud enough for her to hear, but nobody else. "She's not a threat to your relationship, trust me."

Nat nodded her head, trusting Steve, although not for the reasons he thought. She could clearly see the blonde's affinity for you.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Bucky asked between bites of cobbler.

"It's really a private conversation." Steve answered for you, seeing how unsure of yourself you were.

"Then why do you know, punk?" Bucky countered.

"Well, I had to tell someone so I could finally talk to you. Steve's the one who asked." You smiled at Steve again, trying to convey how grateful you were with just a look.

Steve smiled back at you, while everyone in else just shared a knowing look.

Eventually, Steve cleared his throat. "Buck, can you just come with us?"

Bucky nodded, moving to follow Steve while still eating the cobbler. You followed the two of them as well, growing more nervous with each step.

Steve lead you to his room, placing the box of scrapbooks on the bed.

"Do you want me to stay?" Steve looked to you for an answer.

You took a deep breath, in all honestly you would love for him to stay, but you think you should probably just talk to Bucky first.

"No, that's okay. Come back in like, 30 minutes?" You scrunched up your face, unsure if 30 minutes was long enough, but knowing you would need the deadline if you were ever going to explain it all to Bucky.

Steve nodded, squeezing your shoulder as he passed you to leave the room.

"Um," you turned to Bucky, trying to think of where to start. "I don't know what you already know about me, but-"

"Nothing really. Except that you make a delicious plum cobbler." He smiled, helping to ease your nerves. Food really was the way to this man's heart.

"Oh, I guess I'll start where I started when I told Steve." You smiled at the mention of his name, unaware of your own actions. But Bucky noticed.

"My parents died a few months ago." Bucky's eyes went wide, trying to think of what this could have to do with him. "Um, it was a car accident. They both died on the scene." You took a deep breath, trying to push through the sad parts.

"I had to clean out their house, and I found some scrapbooks that lead me to you." You shifted closer to the bed, looking through the scrapbooks you brought.

You pulled out the one with the first picture you showed Steve, opening it and gesturing for Bucky to take it.

He set the cobbler on Steve's nightstand, cautiously reaching for the book. He looked at the picture for a long time before saying anything. And when he did talk, it was a whispered "Becca..."

He ran his fingers over the picture slowly, just staring. A few minutes later, he eagerly flipped the page. He spent a good 10 minutes just looking through all the books you handed him.

"Where did you get these?" He questioned, although not accusingly.

"I found them in my parents house. They were with a bunch of my grandma's stuff that she had from her mom." You wanted to ease him into it.

"So your great grandma..." He trailed off, disbelief clear across his face.

"Was Rebecca Barnes." You finished the sentence for him, nerves clear in your voice.

You weren't sure what to say next, so you waited for him to make the next move.

"So you're my... great-grand niece?" You nodded at his question, still unsure if he was happy with the news. "God, that makes me feel old."

You nearly cackled, surprised by the joke. He smiled when you laughed, glad to have cleared some of the tension.

"Why did you want to find me?" He questioned, the mood turning more serious again.

"Well, I was really close to my parents. They were the only family I had. When I found out you are family too, I just... I knew I needed to at least tell you." You shrugged at the end, unsure if you really answered his question.

"You wanted to tell me so badly that you sat outside the compound every Saturday for five weeks even after being ignored?" He was in shock that anyone would spend that much time and effort just to talk to him. You started panicking immediately.

"I'm so sorry if you didn't want to know! It was selfish of me to force this on you. I can go, if you want. You don't have to talk to me." You started questioning everything. You moved to put the books back in the box when he stopped you.

"Oh, um. I'm sorry, you can keep those. If you want!" Tears were threatening to fall down your cheeks when you remembered the ring. You froze with your hand in the box, not knowing if you'd want to part with it knowing you'd never see Bucky again.

"Y/N..." Something in the way he said your name made you look at him. "I- I'm glad you told me. Really glad. I, uh, I never thought I would have family, well besides Steve. You know what I mean." He ran a hand through his hair, and you noticed the tears in his eyes.

"I don't want you to go. It's just hard for me..." he paused, trying to figure out his emotions. "It's hard to believe that someone would care about me that much."

"Bucky, I don't know you." He frowned at your statement. "But, I would love to get to know you." You smiled at him, trying to be reassuring.

"I'm not so sure you would." His face was hard, staring at the ground.

"Bucky, you aren't a bad person. I mean, sure you've done bad things, but it wasn't your choice. You were forced to do those things. You can't let yourself be defined by them. You're here aren't you?"

"Here?" He questioned.

"Working with the Avengers, I mean. You go on missions to help save people. That's your choice. That's who you are. I would be honored to get to know that person."

You smiled, waiting for him to say something.

"Are you sure?" He still looked unsure.

"God, maybe I get my stubbornness from you." You both laughed at that. "I am 100% sure."

"Wow." He shook his head, still in shock.

A knock sounded on the door before Steve came back in. "Is now a good time?" He asked, still standing in the doorway.

You nodded appreciatively. "Thank you." You pulled him into a hug, needing the emotional support.

"Of course. I'm happy I could help." He rubbed your back, reciprocating the hug. "Did you give him the ring yet?" He asked when you took a step back.

You shook your head, reaching into the box for the last item. "I, um, I thought you might want this." You handed him the box, nerves peaking through again.

He opened it, a soft smile on his face when he recognized it. "My mom's engagement ring."

You smiled, happy that he recognized it. "It was my mom's as well."

The two of you stared a the ring for awhile, reminiscing on time spent with your parents.

Eventually, Bucky picked the cobbler back up, not wanting to let it go to waste.

Steve couldn't help but roll his eyes at his friend. "Wow, jerk. You're just gonna go back to eating."

"Yes, punk. My great-grand niece made me a plum cobbler, and I tend to fully enjoy it."

"Great-grand niece. Ha, that makes you sound so old."

It was fun for you to see the two interacting like this, especially after the emotional hurdles you just ran.

"It's fine, Stevie. Let him enjoy the cobbler." Your face went red, not having meant to use the nickname.

"Yeah Stevie, let me enjoy the cobbler." Bucky couldn't help but poke fun, knowing there was an unspoken attraction between the two of you.

Somehow your face got even redder. Steve just rolled his eyes.

"Fine, eat your cobbler. Only because I had some of the apple one and it was delicious. It would be a shame to waste any."

You smiled at the compliment, embarrassment subsiding a bit. Steve sat down on the bed between you and Bucky, eager to ask his friend about some of the pictures. Steve put his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder as he spoke to Bucky.

You felt your eyes growing heavy, exhausted since your nerves kept you up most of the night. You rested your head on Steve's shoulder, soaking in his warmth as you cuddled closer.

Steve just rubbed your arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the interaction, realization dawning on his face.

"Oh my god. My best friend likes my great-grand niece. And she likes him." He said it so matter of fact, the two of you didn't bother denying it. You just smiled, and cuddled closer together.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x natasha #bucky barnes x natasha romanoff #tony stark #sam wilson #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel fic #clint barton #Bucky Barnes x platonic!reader

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1kook · 3 years

Text

wrong place, right time

— a someway, somehow jjk x reader drabble summary “Marry me,” Jungkook says one night warning smut is mentioned in passing (jk getting tied up, gagged, crying lol, also him fingering oc), da ex girlfriend Sojin is mentioned 😨, oc is a LIL scared..... she gets over it lol rating m (18+) wc 1k

note (!) alas.... our last swsh drabble to fulfill the arc I accidentally began for them <3 rip in peaces u will be missed mrs. ‘swish’

His timing is absolutely terrible.

At first, you had wanted to believe Jungkook was the normal one, that it was you who moved according to strict imaginary schedules. Wake up at exactly 6:14am every morning, grab your keys by 6:43. Precise, exact. Jungkook and everyone else moved according to more lax rules. The auto shop opens at 9am, sometimes 9:10 if traffic is bad; it closes at 11pm or whenever the last client leaves. Compared to Jungkook, you were just too picky about timing, too strict.

For a long time, that seemed to be accurate.

“Marry me,” Jungkook says one night, rolled beneath an old Dodge pick-up truck that has definitely seen better days. You’re sitting off to the side, fingers flying across your phone’s keyboard as you type up an angry email. It’s muffled, the sound of his voice absorbed by the junk of metal above him. You pretend you don’t hear it. A few minutes later, he rolls out from underneath, has got a dark streak of something painted across his perfect forehead. He taps the pointed toe of your heel with a wrench. “Marry me,” he repeats.

You balk. “You’re asking me now?” you clarify just in case, phone slowly coming to rest against your thighs. He tilts his head to the side, shrugs like he sees nothing weird about the situation. There’s no other word to explain the emotion that blooms in your chest other than completely dumbfounded. “Like… right now?”

Jungkook’s not even looking at you anymore, too busy shuffling through his toolbox for that one weird shaped tool you see him use often. “Do you want me to ask another time?” he suggests casually. When he looks back up, he’s got this slightly confused look on his face, as if you’re the odd one. And because the moment is just so… weird you find yourself nodding along.

And that’s that. You move on, pretend like Jungkook’s weirdly placed proposal didn’t happen, let it settle in the very back of your mind. Not like it’s hard, anyway. Your schedule is packed, clouded with meetings and deadlines, all your new roles as the department manager, and you barely have time to think about it.

He tries again about a month later.

“Marry me,” he gasps after a wild night beneath the sheets. There’s tender marks lining his rib cage, over his arms, around his throat. His face is still flushed, and there’s drying cum against his tummy. He might’ve cried tonight from overstimulation, but you can’t quite remember. That’s how he asks you the second time.

For some reason, you laugh the second time. “What?” you chuckle, and maybe it was one of those protective measures, laughing in a tense situation because you don’t know what else to say. Your mind is still stuck somewhere between the gags and the cuffs and the tears and the way his skin had bruised beneath your touch.

Jungkook rolls out his wrist— it’s red, so fucking red —and then promptly reaches for your hand. The pad of his thumb is rough from years of working, swipes across your knuckles lovingly. “Marry me,” he says, but you can’t tell if the blush on his cheeks is from his bashfulness or from the fact you had choked him a few minutes prior. “I want to marry you.”

Your brain stalls, mouth opening and closing. Jungkook doesn’t seem too bothered. He kisses your knuckles, asks you to get the salve from his drawer instead. He doesn’t mention it again that night, just lets you rub his back and goes to sleep.

The next time comes sooner, about a week later.

His mom mentions it one night, the three of you squeezed into the tiny kitchen of his family home as his dad snores in the other room. “Sojin is getting married,” she says, and the air is sucked out of the room. At least, it is for you.

You try to play it off, straining your eyes to catch a glimpse of him in your peripheral. “Really,” Jungkook says, half a turkey sandwich in his mouth. He’s still in his jumpsuit from work, has it knotted around his waist in that way that makes him look extra beefy, extra sexy. “That’s crazy.”

His mom hums, and their genuine lack of emotion towards the news makes you feel like you’re the crazy one once again. “She sent an invitation.”

She leaves the kitchen soon after, leaves you quietly stirring the sugar into your coffee as Jungkook gobbles down his sandwich. A loud gulp, the loud smack of his lips. “We should get married,” he says, and you jolt, spoon clattering loudly against the inside of your mug.

Your brain doesn’t struggle for a response this time. That being said, it doesn’t necessarily have you giving him a good response either. “Like Sojin,” you reply, and feel weird about it immediately. Icky. Gross. Bitter.

Apparently, Jungkook gets it. “Or we can get married in ten years,” he suggests instead, skips over your little blunder like he never heard it at all. “Or fifty.”

You appreciate it. “When I’m saggy,” you mumble, eyes hyper-focused on the mini whirlpool inside your coffee mug.

He hums, bumps his hip against yours. “My cute, senior citizen girlfriend. We can drive one of those retro cars around town.”

The worst one yet is on the side of the road, your car battery giving out on the highway that connects the city to your hometown. Jungkook picks you up, pulls up behind you and has the audacity to catcall you as he walks up. “Hey, beautiful,” he flirts after you punch his stupidly strong bicep, grins this cheesy thing at you as he gets to work.

In the end, your car can’t be revived with the limited tools he brought along. You settle on waiting inside his truck, snuggled beneath his jacket as you wait for the tow truck. He gets the bright idea to fondle you beneath the coat, the dying sunset painting his charming face in a romantic glow that has you seeing stars and galaxies and nebulae when you come. “Marry me,” he husks out, mouth slotted against yours.

It’s the last time he asks; it’s the first time you say yes.

#networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #Jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon Jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook drabble #jungkook drabble #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #bts x reader #swshd #mine

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riddikulus-writings · 3 years

Text

Take A Nap

A/N: So yeah. I have a long, in depth fic for these two that's chock full of secrets and fluff and Actual Backstory but for some reason all I can write is smut. This is part two to Escapades and takes place just after the police van rolled down that hill. Also, can someone let me know if that link I tried doesn’t work? I’m still new to writing on this blue hellsite

Word Count: 1734

Pairing: Rick Flag x Female Reader [Codename Nyx, after the Greek Goddess]

Warnings: Still not really any plot, sorry guys. The plot for this is hidden elsewhere. Vaginal fingering. Semi-public sex. Dirty talk. Rick still won't shut up but he really should, though, people are trying to sleep. Choking. Uh, nothing makes sense, really? Movie innacuracies due to the fact this is now a bigger vehicle than the hippie van they were cruising around in, but the same concept still applies.

Apparently, the van was on fire. One by one they stepped from the wreckage, walking out into the road, weapons in hand. Nyx wished she could’ve taken a picture, because she was positive they probably looked pretty cool.

Disoriented. Possibly concust. But cool.

And suddenly, rolling to a stop, was the small dusty van they'd rode to town in. Abner was in the open slider door, waving them in. DuBois puffed out his chest, "Alright. To Jotunheim."

"Not yet," Rick stopped him, "There's something else we need to do first."

"Stop standing like you have an American Flag waving behind you and get in the fucking mini bus, Flag."

Nyx's voice shook him out of his reverie; he was the last one outside. He jogged to catch the bus before it began moving faster, piling in the door and sliding it shut behind him. His eyes immediately found Nyx, seated in the very back. Rick beelined for her through the others and took up the space on her right. Peacemaker called to him from a seat up, "So, where are we going, now?"

"The Mayor's mansion in town," Rick told him, "We need to get Harley."

"Oh, I miss her," Nyx mused quietly.

Oh yeah. Rick cringed to himself, remembering the three missions he, Nyx and Harley had been on before he’d requested to Waller that Harley be benched more often than not. The first had gone by fine, minimal issues. The second was better. No deaths, no infighting amongst the Squad. Nyx had loosened up around other people by then and banter even happened. And the third--

Ain’t it normally the gal makin’ heart eyes at the guy and not the other way around, Ricky?

He’d shaken his head and given Harley a stern glare for assuming things. Harley had simply given him her smuggest million dollar grin and continued about her own business and not his.

“Suicide Squad to Mr. Flag,” a hand was waving in his eyes, slowly coming into focus. It was Nyx’s hand, but Cleo’s heavily accented voice, “What’s the plan?”

Rick cleared his throat, looking among his teammates, “Peacemaker high up, across the street. Sniper for any possible danger. Cleo,” he pointed at her, “Abner and, uh… Sebastian… are around back. Take out any guards back there. DuBois scales the wall to the top, Nyx and I keep watch.”

“Question,” Nyx raised her hand up, “Why can’t we just walk in the front door?”

"That would give us away," Peacemaker told her blatantly, "Instant capture. Dumb idea."

"You're a dumb idea," she retorted, "Actually, a bad idea was bringing you along."

Whoa. Everyone's eyebrows shot up, "Nyx, what the fuck? No infighting. Knock it off," Rick's voice was low but firm with authority.

"He's-- he's got bad vibes about him," Nyx's words slurred, "I-I just don't like him."

"No one does," DuBois told her, patting the very quiet Peacemaker on the shoulder, "Everyone try to get some rest before we get to town. It's going to be a while."

The rest of the team hunkered down in their seats, leaning against their respective windows or leaning forward with their heads against the seat ahead of them. Cleo snuggled into Nanaue's side, and Peacemaker went as far as laying completely flat on his back, his thick splayed legs hanging in the aisle.

Rick reached over and tugged Nyx across the bench seat they were seated on, sliding her into his side, "What’s up between you and Peacemaker?" His voice was quiet, muffled against the hair at her temple.

She ducked away from him a little, tucking her head under his chin, "I've been with him a bit longer than you have. I just… can't explain it but I don't like him. He makes me uneasy."

Rick's thumb started rubbing circles in her hip, "So many trust issues."

"I have my reasonings," she yawned up at him, "Secret reasonings."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," he whispered, grabbing her chin with his free hand so he could look her in the eye. The dim moonlight through the window made her eyes seem almost black, "Extra secret reasonings, huh?"

Nyx leaned closer, staring at his mouth instead of his eyes, "Top secret."

Rick hummed in agreement and closed the gap, sealing his mouth over hers. He wasted no time dipping his tongue into her mouth, drinking in her moans before they could get too loud. He gently pushed on her, laying her down across the length of the seat. Rick followed her down, nestling himself between her legs. Nyx planted a foot on the seat beside Rick’s thigh as he hitched the other into the crook of his elbow, “Gonna be quiet?” he asked quietly, lightly peppering kisses down her neck. Sucking on her now-exposed collarbone.

She whined, a breathless whisper as she nodded desperately, trying to grind her hips against something. Rick moved back up, his free hand moving around her neck, “Quiet.”

He slowly lowered her leg, her boot softly hitting the floor. Rick sent a sidelong glance through the rest of the dark bus, and so far no one had moved from their previous positions. Thank God for that. What a sight they’d wake up to; Nyx spread over the only bench seat here, Rick looming over her, a hand around her throat. They’d either think he was trying to kill her, or get very uncomfortable very fast and ask him to stop.

Which, he wasn’t about to do whether someone woke up or not.

He turned his attention back to the panting woman beneath him, raising an eyebrow at the grin spread over her face. The more pressure he applied to her throat, the wider her lips spread. His right hand worked at the buttons of her black pants, “Filthy little thing,” he muttered, “There’s other people on this bus.” Rick snaked his hand down the front of her pants, stroking down her dripping sex, “All for me?”

“That is you,” she panted out, grabbing the back of his head to pull him down for another searing kiss. When he scooped his cum back up with two fingers and pushed them inside, Nyx bit his bottom lip so hard he was sure she’d drawn blood. He leaned into it, pushing his tongue on her mouth again as he worked his fingers and scissored her open.

“Quiet,” he admonished, again, pressing his free hand against her throat once more. He pinned her to the seat, squeezing his hand as tight as he’d let himself, “Gonna wake everyone up,” he breathed out, his nose brushing against hers.

Again, Nyx’s grin grew, her pearly teeth glowing in the shards of moonlight passing through the windows, “Good.”

Rick almost growled but couldn’t without fear of waking someone up. Instead he buried his face in her shoulder, “Fuckin’ filthy little thing,” he repeated, curling his fingers against that certain spongy spot he’d found that made her grind hard into the palm of his hand, “Gonna be a good girl and keep me in there?” She whined out a high pitched yes but otherwise stayed breathless, quiet pants crawling up her throat and Rick wanted nothing more than to shove his cock in her open mouth. He pulled up from her neck, almost sneering with the strain of trying to stay quiet as he worked his thumb up to the peak of her cunt, “Want you to cum all over my hand, sweetheart. Gonna do that for me? See if you can stay quiet.”

“Bastard,” was the whimper he got.

“That’s not very nice,” he told her, pressing his thumb hard on her clit. Her arm suddenly flew up to cover her face, Nyx burying her face in the crook of her elbow as Rick buried a third finger deep in her cunt, his thumb rubbing fast circles. He moved his hand from her throat, sliding it instead to her hip to hold her down as she bucked into his hand, “C’mon, almost there. I got you,” he muttered.

Her hips stuttered, low whines coming muffled by her elbow. She was choking his fingers and he had to remove one so he could keep them moving, working her through her orgasm. Rick’s hand got soaked suddenly and she went limp, her only movement coming from her chest that moved with rapid breaths, “Bitch.”

Rick tugged her arm from her face as he slid his hand from her pants, “What’s the matter, Nyx?”

“I--” she panted out, “hate being-- quiet.”

He flashed her a bright grin and tugged her pants back into place, giving her stomach a gentle pat, “You didn’t have to,” a quick peck on the lips, “But it would’ve been a bit awkward for the others. Especially when I wouldn’t stop.” Another whimper, and he raised an eyebrow at her, but simply stuck his fingers in his mouth.

“I’m going to sleep,” she whispered, dropping her hand off the side of the seat. Her knuckles brushed the floor. The other arm folded behind her head.

“I sure fuckin’ hope so,” DuBois grumbled from somewhere up front. “You two are disgusting.”

"No one told you to listen," Rick shot back, his whisper loud enough for DuBois to hear over Nyx's stifled giggles. Rick was grinning, though; thankfully Bloodsport couldn't see it.

"Someone needs to nap," Nyx murmured, a small smirk plastered over her mouth, "He sounds cranky."

“You ain't laying down there,” Rick suddenly tugged her back up to snuggle into his side, his arm draped over her shoulders as he scooted them both to the end of the seat, “Leanin’ or layin’?”

“Lay,” she yawned.

He turned and pressed his back to the window, head lolling to the side to lean on the seat. After some shuffling, she was between his legs, back to his chest. HIs arms wrapped around her, one leg from each of them on the seat and the other leg on the floor. They looked like they had the same boots on. Nyx nuzzled her head into his shoulder, “Y’smell nice…”

“I smell like jungle and sweat,” he chuckled, his laugh vibrating through her, “And blood. Go to sleep.”

And they both dozed off like that, just as they had several times before on Nyx’s couch. Their breathing evened, Nyx drooling a little onto Rick’s bicep. Rick shifted in his sleep and snugged her closer to his chest.

#Rick Flag #Rick Flag x reader #Rick Flag x female reader #rick flag smut #the suicide squad #Rick Flag The Suicide Squad #dc #dceu #suicide squad fan fiction #suicide squad fanfiction #rick flag imagine #rick flag one shot #dceu fan fiction

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floraltypes · 3 years

Text

Knight in Shining Glasses

pairing - ed nygma x reader

tw - mentions of blood, death, physical abuse

summary - getting invited to the bar, you invite your handsome co-worker ed, too bad nothing ever can go right with your brother

unedited :/

“Mr. Nygma,” You nodded to the man that just smiled as you walked past, clicking your shoes together the slightest bit and turning your stare quickly down to the files in your hands.

“Miss L/n!” He realized, jogging for a few seconds to catch up with your quick speed. He steadily made it to your side, following you to your desk outside by the other policeman and women, staring down at you as you took a seat at the chair near your desk.

“You followed me,” You looked up, shoving the file away and placing your full attention on him.

“Yes I did. Why, I always follow you everywhere you go at night, and I look very bright to some people, and come in different forms and shapes. What am I?”

“Uh, I’m afraid I’m stuck,” You crossed your legs, taking a small moment to think, contemplating some answers in your head. “A flashlight?”

“The moon,” He smiled, pushing up his glasses as you nodded, making a small ‘oh’ noise. “I was wondering, well, if you’re bus-”

“L/n,” One of the fellow officers walked over, coming up to you and giving your hair a big ruffle with their large hand, messing it up. “We’re going out to drinks, with your brother, said to invite you.”

“Oh,” You spun around in the chair, setting your glare on him and a few other officers who stood besides him. “I was just going to catch up on working at th-”

“Don’t be a loser, you’re brother wants you to go, said you had to.” The other officer chimed in, walking forward with his eyes rolling. It was obvious he didn’t want you to come, your only reason being the factor of your siblings popularity and authority.

“I suppose,” You hummed, slowly turning back to face Ed, with a small smile. “What were you saying?”

“I thought, well-”

“You’re still talking to this weirdo? Riddle guy?” The first one asked, going by the name of John, he laughed a bit with the other man besides him. “Anyone but him, I get you’re a nerd, but still.”

“What’s wrong with Mr. Nygma?” You asked slowly, contemplating your words, despite being on the police force, you worked on solving the cases more behind a desk, never really being put in the field.

“Don’t make me spell it out, or do I need to make it some riddle,” John once again joked, the man besides him, Mark, going behind to poke Ed’s shoulder. “See you later,” He laughed, Mark shoving Ed’s shoulder and the both finally walking away.

Ed stood their for a moment, his gaze set on the desk, like he was going through some type of argument in his head, trying to figure something out.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized, head down as well. “They aren’t always the kindest.”

“You don’t need to!” Ed frantically responded, hands up and shaking back and forth. “Really. I must go now.” He nodded to himself, rushing away from your area, as you grabbed another file and set your sights on it, ignoring the former conversations.

————

“Um, Mr. Nygma,” You knocked on his door, looking at how he was staring at the tubes filled with their liquids, truly captivated by the colors and combinations.

“It’s good to stretch me and push my limits. The more you use me, the stronger I get. When I am sharp, I’m at my best. What am I?” Ed looked up and over to you, massaging his own temples while pushing the vials a bit to the side.

“Well, um,” You tapped your finger to your lips, trying to quickly come up with it. “A brain!” You exclaimed, wide smile as he nodded his head with a smile of his self. “Tough work?”

“Difficult, the way these chemicals are making something they aren’t supposed to, I’ll have to go and look more into it. Something I wasn’t wanting to do,” He admitted, walking closer to you.

“Ah. I suppose now isn’t a well time then,” You realized, nodding to him and opening the door.

“No! No! Miss L/n, please, uh, go on.”

“I was hoping, if you’re able to, if you’d go to the bar with me tonight? I’m not wanting to go by myself, due to the factor of not being close with the other men.”

“Oh! Uh, well, yes, but, uh-”

“Please do not feel pressured to accept.”

“No! I don’t, nope, I can make it, if you want, which you do, yes, yes I can accept,” He stumbled on his words, eyes wide and hands frantic around his body. He then removed his glasses from his face, cleaning them, and trying to calm down his anxiousness. “I can make it.”

“That’s great,” You nodded to him, opening the door up once again and taking a step out, waving a small wave.

Once stepping out you ran into the infamous detective Gordon, who lightly touched your shoulder, stopping your path.

“Did Ed figure out what those vials hold, it’s important to catching this guy,” He spoke, you turning around to fully face him with the same smile glued to your lips. “What happened in there?”

“Nothing! He, uh, he didn’t figure it out yet. Taking longer than he was hoping, but, I won’t be able to stay late tonight,” You revealed to your coworker, brushing down your pants.

“That’s fine, Bullock and I are just going to check out a witness to see if we can get a better statement. Are you okay, you look, uh, frantic.”

“I’m perfectly fine. I really am Mr. Gordon, goodbye,” You continued your walk to your desk as Jim just scratched his head, making a mental note to ask about that later.

Jim made his way into Ed’s area, staring at the man who was just staring at the vials, his cheeks a little flushed. What had happened in there? Did the vials contain some sort of love potion? Gotham was a interesting city, he could see something like that happen.

“Ed,” His deep voice cut through the mans thoughts, bringing his head to look up at Jim’s, waiting for him to continue. “I need to know what’s in those vials.”

“Take away my first letter, and I still sound the same. Take away my last letter, I still sound the same. Even take away my letter in the middle, I will still sound the same. I am a five-letter word. What am I?”

“Enough with the riddles, what is it?”

“Empty! The vials don’t hold a specific combination, it’s a gas, it looks empty but it isn’t. I’ve tested the gas and deducted it’s a drug to make you see the thing you love the most as the murderer.”

“That’s why all of them were letting the murderer in, despite seeing the gun, it makes sense,” Jim realized.

“Yes it does. Truly fascinating how-” Ed stopped his talking once looking upon Gordon’s annoyed features. “Never mind. But I must be heading home soon, I have somethings to do tonight.”

“Just like Y/n,” Jim whispered to himself.

“Did she say anything to you?”

“No, why, what are you two doing?”

“Her brother invited her and a few of the fellow policemen out, she invited me to join all of them as well,” Ed started to pack his little bag a bit, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack.

“Ah, Miles is having another night out,” Jim grunted, soon stepping out of the room to go on with his ideals of getting this man caught and case finished up with minimal deaths.

———————

You stared at your hair in the mirror, not sure if it was something you liked, it wasn’t a hairstyle you normally did, always having your hair fully up and away from your face. And the makeup choice wasn’t normal, a bit too pink of lipstick and the darkness of the subtle eye liner.

But, this is something men found attractive, also the somewhat revealing dress on your figure, showing a bit more cleavage than normally.

When you made it to the bar, your brother waited for you outside with a beer already in his hand, staring at the tv in the inside of the bar through the window he was leaning on.

“Miles?” You looked towards him and he turned around quickly, rolling his eyes.

“Your fucking friend showed up,” He walked over to you, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and harshly pulling you closer to him, so he could whisper in your ear. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wanted to have a friend as well,” You responded, trying to pull your arm out of his grip.

“Stop being a bitch, and listen to me, I didn’t say to invite other people. You’d think with how much I smacked you around when we lived together you’d remember these things,” He snarled, pushing you away so that you fell onto your butt, right into a wet, muddy, puddle.

“Oh no,” You quickly stood up, facing your eyes down to the broken heel from one shoe and now trying to look at your behind.

“Maybe you shouldn’t of dressed like such a whore, you knew I invited my friends, were you trying to embarrass me?”

“No, no.” You mumbled, fully standing up and putting your hands behind your back, as your brother made his way to the door of the bar.

“Hurry up now.”

You nodded a little, trying not to just run away, that would’ve led to something even worse happening to you than a dirty outfit.

Slowly opening the door, you rushed into the bar, having your eyes scan the men you were meeting up with a and two empty chairs right near Ed, planning to quickly sit down on them to avoid further embarrassment.

“There she is!” John called out, some alcohol in his hand as Ed turned around, face looking annoyed before he caught your eye, changing to one of happiness. “Took ya’ long enough, dumbass brother over here was freaking out,” He laughed.

“Sorry,” You apologized, trying to walk as quickly as possible with your broken heel.

“Damn, what happened to you?” Your brother questioned, acting as if he wasn’t the cause to your looks. “Your dress looks disgusting.”

“It’s a nice green color,” Ed complimented, in some black dress pants, white button up shirt, black tie, and black jacket over it, similar to what he’d wear to work.

“Thank you, Ed.”

“Damn, did you fall onto your butt, damn your sister is clumsy,” Another man commented, being truly obvious about his glare to your bum.

“That’s embarrassing,” A different one whispered to John, the both of them laughing.

“Uh, here, Miss L/n,” Ed stood up, walking over to you and handing you his jacket as you accepted it, wrapping it around your dress and moving to sit right next to him on one of the other stools.

The conversation regarding your dress was soon forgotten about, one of the men bringing up a girl he was dating as you and Ed indulged in a conversation of your own.

It was sweet, being able to talk to the co-worker who was your favorite. He spoke to you about the case and other cases, about some favorite music and foods, riddles filtering in every now and then.

“Looks like you’re sister really is a nerd, falling for that guy,” Mark laughed, nudging your bothers shoulder and pointing at the two of you with some of the widest grins and sweet drinks.

“She’s not,” He whispered, soon slamming his drink down and catching the attention of the both of you. “Ed, aren’t you with the Kringle chick? Always fawning over her,” Your brother watched as your smile deflated.

“Uh, well, Miss Kringle is seeing someone,” He responded pushing up his glasses. “I don’t like her in that way.”

“You did,” John spoke up. “Always writing letters, ha.”

“I admit I did do that, but I don’t share feelings for her anymore, I share them for someone else.”

“Who, that cat lady who doesn’t live to far from the station,” Mark now chuckled.

“No.”

“Stop with you’re nonsense jokes,” You voiced, looking over at them and your brows furrowed. “You all always pick on Mr. Nygma when he is a vital part of our team, it’s not okay.”

“Wow,” The men were a little speechless, not expecting words like that to come out of you, Ed was speechless himself.

“Stop saying idiotic things, you’re obviously drunk and acting out of line. Apologize.” Your brother demanded, standing from his seat and turning to look at his friends. “I’m embarrassed, I’m going to take her home.”

“She’s not drunk,” Ed commented. “I’ve sat next to her and she’s only had one drink, with not much alcohol.”

“This just confirms the two nerds really do like each other,” John added, laughing along with the three other men.

“My sister wouldn’t like someone like him, let’s go,” He grabbed your shoulder, pulling you away from your seat as you almost fell once again, tripping on the broken heel as your brother dragged you through the crowds.

Ed quickly gathered his own things, rushing out after the two of you with a new found adrenaline in his heart, he noticed a steak knife on the bar counter, near the meat, grabbing it and stuffing it into his pocket he went along outside.

Sirens were heard and the patter of rain falling from the roofs, people walking past the crappy buildings and women soliciting themselves, all knowing what happens in Gotham, how this would always be a normal thing.

Ed saw how you were sitting on the curb, playing with your fingers in your hand, as he walked over and sat besides you.

“I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I'm sometimes the hardest to express, but the easiest to ignore. I can be given to many, or just one. What am I?” He asked, as you slowly lifted your head with glossy eyes.

“Love?”

“Yes,” He nodded, smiling a bit. “Miss L/n, I feel as though the feelings I harvest are more than they should be for a normal co-worker.”

“And they’re probably gone. I apologize for inviting you, I was hoping they wouldn’t be so much like this, better.”

“They aren’t. Miss L/n, may I kiss you?” You nodded and he leaned over, placing his lips onto yours as you reluctantly reached for his hand, the both of you intertwining fingers as the kiss was long, just the mushing of lips and nothing more. Some of the lip gloss you and worn for the evening spreading onto Ed’s lips.

“You should just call me Y/n,” You smiled, laughing a little afterwards.

“Shall we go back to my house Y/n? I can make us a nice cup of tea and we could finish the conversation we were having inside.”

“I’d like that,” You nodded, keeping your hand in his. “But I promised my brother that I’d go home with him and help clean his house.”

“Rearrange it.”

“He won’t allow it, I can’t, you see how he was.”

“I’ll talk to him, my car is right around here, I’ll give you the keys and meet you in there.” He smiled to you, taking the hand that wasn’t holding yours and fishing them out in his pant pocket, placing them in your empty hand.

“Are you sure? He isn’t always the kindest.”

“I’m sure,” Ed responded, the both of you getting up from the curb and separating ways. Your brother was soon back as you were walking down the street more, Miles looking around angrily for you.

“Where the hell is she? What are you doing out here?” Miles turned towards Ed.

“I know about what you’ve done to Y/n. I can’t allow it to happen any longer,” He spoke, hands making a fist.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“How you treat her, I’ve seen the bruises on her.”

“Well, someone has to keep her in line, she doesn’t have a husband to do it.”

“A husband or brother shouldn’t do that!” Ed yelled at him as your brother threw a punch at Ed’s cheek, causing the man to fall onto the concrete ground, touching his cheek.

“Freak, you wouldn’t know,” Miles laughed, kicking Ed in the leg as he groaned. Ed reached into his other pocket, looking up at Miles who was now leaning over him. “Patheti- AH!” He screamed, looking down at the knife that was just plunged into his shin, falling backwards. “What the hell!”

“I love Y/n, it is my duty to now protect her, we are in a relationship.”

“Like hell you are,” Miles argued, clutching his bleeding leg. Ed bend down, pushing the knife into his stomach as more blood splurged out.

“Look who’s pathetic now,” He removed the knife and stabbed it back into his upper chest, carefully watching the facial expressions Miles was making, the way his eyes clenched in fear and tears were forming.

“My friends will easily figure out what you’ve done to me, get you the chair!” Miles yelled back as Ed now reached down to grab his unharmed leg and drag him into the alley.

“It can not be seen whenever it's there. It fills up a room, it's much like the air. It can not be touched, there's nothing to hear. It is quite harmless, there's nothing to fear. What is it?” Ed asked, now Miles being fully into the unoccupied alley, taking some of his last breaths. “Darkness. Something that helps when murdering someone,” Ed looked down at his now lifeless body.

He looked at the bloody knife, and garbage nearby, opening up the lid and found a old, ratted and stinky jacket, putting it on and wiping the bloodied knife with the side of a garbage bag, putting it back into his pocket and buttoning the jacket with the one button, hiding the blood of his dress shirt, only hints peaking through.

He made his walk back to his car, finding you just sitting in the passenger seat with your hands in your lap. Ed smiled over at you as he sat in the driver seat, taking a breath before starting the engine.

Happiness filled your mind, truly blessed to have a better opportunity to get to know the co-worker you have been crushing on. This feeling being so blinding in a sense, you didn’t even worry about your brother, or the new red splotch on his shirt, brushing it off.

You were going to get to truly have a date at his house, what you’ve been wanting. Now, how far your relationship would get, that was a riddle you weren’t ready to solve.

#gotham #gotham x reader #gotham x y/n #gotham x you #ed x reader #ed x you #ed x y/n #ed nygma x reader #ed nygma x you #ed nygma #james gordon #nygma x you #nygma x reader #nygma x y/n #riddler x reader

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jae-canikeepyou · 3 years

Text

| adjacent | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

word count: 18k+ (unedited & not proof read)

summary: jaehyun turns into a golden retriever whenever the day reaches the most beautiful time; golden hour. a secret he kept his entire life & always wonders how long he could keep it, especially when you suddenly showed up.

genre: au + golden retriever!jaehyun + hs!nct

a/n: idk what came to me as i brainstormed this but by now, nctzens and valentines should know jaehyun’s a golden retriever :3 so i decided to write a plot for this adorable fact T^T heavily inspired with fruits basket and beauty & the beast! i really hope you’ll like it. lmk what you think! enjoy reading lovelies! ~j

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time was ticking real quick.

he rushed through the bustling people, avoiding the narrow crowds and jay-walked countless pedestrian crossings. he needed to hide. no one should see him transform. there was little time left. why was he so careless each time this happened? his parents and younger brother warned him to be alert at all times. did he listen? no, never did. they compared him to a rock— hard headed and stubborn. but all he ever wanted was to be free.

curses! just a little more, a few metres more! he pant as he tried to catch air. he felt his flesh tingling, his senses doubling and tripling. jaehyun peddled as fast as he could, at least reach the line of bushes by the basketball court. hopping over the plants, he threw his bag aside and jumped off his bike before bracing for the fall.

the now broken bell sounded horrible as jaehyun’s brother caught up to him with his skateboard. “dad’s gonna kill you if you ask for another bike for your birthday.” he sighed looking at the loosened chain while picking up the single-track vehicle and the scattered clothes.

jaehyun transformed to a golden retriever puppy and struggled to come out of the bushes with his tiny paws and body. when he succeeded, he scratched the back of his ears to brush off the leaves stuck to them. “won’t happen, sungchan. i’ve already saved up enough by then. i’m not gonna burden dad for my wants.”

sungchan pressed the bridge of his nose. “you’re kinda being a burden now.” he picked the animal— his brother— up and put him inside his coat, as well as the belongings on the ground. he hopped on the bike and headed towards jaehyun’s campus.

“what did you say?” jaehyun barked tried opening the zipper from the inside of sungchan’s coat.

“nothing.” the younger excused. “but can i have your bike if you actually plan to get a new one?”

“ugh just bring me to the court. i’ll be late for my morning practice.”

the brothers were able to communicate telepathically as they’re related and were both cursed. instead of golden hour, sungchan transforms during the blue hour, which occured at twilight. tracing back to their ancestors, all were cursed for unknown inexplainable circumstances. they tried breaking it with all they could. every idea ended a failure. so they had to live through it, adjust, adapt and be alert.

they bumped into ten, kun and jungwoo, who were doing warm-ups and they simultaneously trailed their eyes and heads towards the jung brothers. seeing the huge pouch on sungchan’s stomach area, they all cracked up and checked the time. “oh yeah, it’s sunrise.” jungwoo spun the ball on his pointer finger.

ten grabbed the pup with one hand and jaehyun barked at him but he couldn’t understand a thing. although he was confused, he continued to carry him in his palm because jaehyun’s response was funny. “what is he trying to say?” he chuckled and poked the pup’s snout.

“he said ‘it hurts. put me down idiot’. i have to be honest with you hyung. holding us by the back of the neck really hurts.” unlike his brother, he was rather calm and collected despite already imagining the pain.

“you’re a blue holland lop bunny. it’s normal to carry you like this too right?” ten showed the pup to sungchan.

kun facepalmed at the question and took jaehyun. “no dimwit it’s not normal. sorry jae. you know he just likes teasing your puppy form.”

“‘wait until i turn back’- ugh seriously do i really have to translate hyung’s words every time?” sungchan gave jaehyun’s clothes and bike to jungwoo. “you know what to do when he transforms back yeah?”

they nodded and upon seeing the kid leave and headed towards his campus, jaehyun couldn’t wait to turn human. he would always beat ten up almost immediately— sometimes forgetting that he was naked. for the dudes it was alright. the problem was if he was with girls, though he hasn’t encountered anyone so far. he hoped he didn’t have to.

the harsh drills from basketball practice already sucked the energy out of jaehyun. not only that it was physically tiring, transforming into a dog twice a day before that have doubled the strain. then him transforming back would cause migraines and painful joints, as they were the aftermath of the curse. he had to keep his title of m.v.p and captain since the told them there was a possibility of him of having a scholarship for college. he couldn’t let a minor pain hinder that chance. not ever.

however, ten and the others could read his suffering. to them it was obvious through his exhales and slowing speed. hiding it was of no use. jungwoo ruffled his hair with a clean towel after shower. “can’t you just be like that dog in the movie ‘up’? have a collar that translates barks into actual language?”

jaehyun rolled his eyes and wore his black t-shirt. “it’s a damn movie, jungwoo. the world might’ve evolved and advanced in technology and even if they were to exist they’d be expensive. can’t afford that.”

“you sound negative, don’t you have any hope at all?” kun joined the conversation.

“never had any. stopping this curse is impossible. it’s been generations. my dad’s still suffering too. i have to find a way.” he fixed his black cap in front of a mirror.

but he knew there wasn’t. silence loomed above them as the team struggled to continue the topic. they tried not to bring it up yet each time they did, it always ended awkwardly and badly. it was either they riled jaehyun’s mood— mostly ten— or jaehyun himself was building his own raincloud by sulking about it and not looking at the bright side.

how ironic it was, he thought. generally speaking, even though being golden had good intentions and the breed was meant to bring happiness to others, he felt the total opposite. if he had to describe it, it was all insecurity, lowered his self-esteem and hopelessness only increased over the years as he grew.

thinking about it, he slammed the locker a little too hard that its components caused it to bounce back.. and also added to fuel of his anger. “break that again you’ll be in the coach’s office.” kun tied his shoelaces and the others agreed.

“my dad is the coach, what do you mean?” he questioned at the stupidity.

“you didn’t show up the last time it broke. we got the punished in your stead. uncle wasn’t happy.” ten got out of the showers last, a towel was wrapped around his waist before the younger ones were scarred for a second.

“it was sunset and i transformed! of all people dad’s supposed to understand! i-” jaehyun rubbed his face quite agressively and headed straight outside.

“oi i’m still changing! wait up!”

jaehyun kicked the bike’s stand attached to the rear wheel. he and his father didn’t have the best relationship compared with other kids, but he could say that it was better than the relationship he had with his mother. she loved her little family, yet over time the curse grew onto her. her husband would turn into a werewolf at full moon. and until now, even though that happened once month, she thought a part of him wasn’t the same person she loved before. even more so, when her sons were just the same as him.

your mom’s delusional! she doesn’t love us! she fears us!

that feeling stayed in the boys’ mind until they were old and mature enough to comprehend the situation they’re in. why couldn’t she love them like any mom would? she was no different from an animal mother abandoning her calf/pup just because they were or had defects.

mr. jung tried his best to be the perfect father, for only he understood what his two sons were going through, as they might go through decades with it, just like he was. jaehyun still remembered his first transformation, he only had puppy paws, but that was a sign to mr. jung that he indeed inherited the curse. when sungchan grew a tail at a fine age of one, their father gave up his 9-5 hour office job to tend the boys. and that was before he became jaehyun’s basketball coach. now he could monitor them at a close range.

much to jaehyun’s dismay and for that reason, he felt more caged and overprotected.

—

“y/n! coach’s looking for you!” your classmate called.

no.. you groaned. again?..

it was already after school hours. you slouched on your desk as you covered your ears, remembering the errands he asked you to do previously. you didn’t know why, but ever since you had detention because you refused to run a 1600m marathon for an assessment, seemed like the other punishment was that he passed his job to you. that was a month ago, and today was the tenth time.

but curious as you were to find answers, you brushed it off and tried not to show any remorse. it’s all for conduct, you kept telling yourself. the whistle echoed the entire hallway and jolting you up in your seat. “okay, okay! hold on!” you yelled from the back of the classroom.

as coach jung stood rather comfortably outside the room, he gestured you to walk faster with a dimpled smile. “y/n! took you approximately three minutes to walk here.” he laughed and handed you several files and a zipper folder.

“thanks for counting?..” you replied with a confused and questioning tone. “coach, what’s this?”

“all school sports teams will have an annual retreat before their playoff seasons. i need a representing manager since ours was admitted to a hospital just today.” he pointed at the list. you followed his finger and it landed on your name.

“sounds like to me it’s more practice. and you want me to go because?” you raised your brows. he asked you to follow him to the gymnasium, in which it was making you recall all those extra detention after school.

“to make up with all of the p.e assessments you ‘purposely’ missed.” he said proudly while looking at his team doing drills. but he didn’t get any response from you. when he looked on his side, you were gone and ran across the basketball gym. “y/f/n!”

you squealed as embarrassment crawled your entire body. not only were you escaping from coach, you were disrupting the team’s practice and hitting couple of duffel bags and water bottles. “ah! sorry! coming through!”

*whistles* “after her!” coach jung’s voice added an extra chill to your spine.

“ugh why us?” ten groaned with sore muscles as coach gestured to them widely.

“just go.” kun panted.

then you heard a several footsteps turn into drums until they sounded a stampede. you jumped on your toes as you passed the line of showers cubicles. good thing you haven’t seen a naked man, or else you’d faint without knowing. you turned around and went straight ahead then to your right, and hid in a random room. the echoing voices and squeaking friction between shoes and waxed floors were cut to a silence, like your ears were muffled instantly.

your wobbly legs were tired and you were sighing in exhaustion and crouched down against the door. great, i’ll stay out of their sight- “what are you doing here?” you heard a low voice and froze on the spot. “only members of the basketball team can access the meeting room.”

that sounded like the captain.

“did you hear what i just said?” he raised his brows. you slowly lifted your eyes from his shoes to his legs, then to his built and face. “well if you’re a nobody you might as well leave before coach arrives. you interrupted my recording-”

“i heard you jung jaehyun.” you tsked and realised you had the name list on your hand. “ah, as a matter of fact, i can be here because i am part of the team. my name’s on the list.” you grabbed a pen and ticked the empty box on the paper.

what are you saying, stupid?!

“uh-huh..” jaehyun trailed, putting down his camera.

“y-yeah!” you stuttered. “you heard me.”

the door shook by the loud knocks from the other side. on the frosted window, you could see four figures. orange and black jerseys, they must be the team members. “ah! the door’s locked! she’s definitely in here coach!” one said.

“i’ll toss you the keys!” he yelled. oh crap. you were caught in between. your heart patterned with the knocks.

“you look terrified after hearing coach, y/n.” the chair squeaked from the weight. “i’m guessing you’re that troublesome student he has a hard time dealing with recently?”

of course captain knows you. great reputation you have, y/n.

“so? what’s your point?” you stood up to see his amused grin.

“say hello to a term’s detention.” jaehyun waved as the door swung open, revealing ten, kun, jungwoo and.. the coach.

you sighed heavily and dropped the papers. the coach crossed his arms and you lowered your head a little. “you plan to escape again y/n? then i shouldn’t hear any excuses from you. you’ll join us for the twelve day retreat. period.” he picked the papers up and wrote something.

“sir i can’t be with a bunch of jocks for that long!” your whine had the captain blocking his ears. “i have debate finals to attend to.”

jaehyun flinched at the high pitched sound and rolled his eyes. what was your deal? it was rude of you to suddenly barge into athlete’s quarters but judging them for that was even more rude of you. he had to shut you up at some point.

“so much excuses.” he played with his nails and to you he looked more amused than ever. you rolled your eyes at his chuckle and know he would target you from now on. “dad, y/n told me she’s ‘part of the team’.” he played his video that recorded your voice, clearly saying what jaehyun heard.

coach jung looked rather surprised, but his smile definitely screamed happy. “oh? that’s all i needed to hear. welcome, uh- temporarily. i’ll inform mrs. park about the situation.”

nononono- “i did this.” you were at a loss for words. “i won’t be able to compete in the debate.”

“yeah pretty much you made the wrong decision.” jaehyun stood to tower over you. “i’d like to see you suffer our drills-”

four knocks cut jaehyun off. “oh no, she’ll only do those for two days.”

you swifted your head in confusion, seeing coach jung wrote down your schedule on the white board. you were packed and it’s a lot worse than the actual assessment planned in school. “and what about the rest of the ten days?!” you exasperated that your hairtie snapped at the right moment, and your hair fell in sightful way.

“ooh that was hot.” ten commented in soft whisper, causing kun and jungwoo nudge him on the each side.

“she’ll be our manager for the remaining days, keep track of our drills and score points, or other extra things i needed a hand with while taeyang’s in the hospital.”

jaehyun rested his palms on his waist, swirling his tongue inside with a provoking gaze at you. “see if you can keep up, manager.” he chuckled.

you checked the time, it was nearing 5 p.m. “you know what, give me a day to process all this sport thing. it’s close to evening and i have to get going-”

“it’s evening already?” jaehyun cut you off as he looked outside the window.

the sun glistening at the distance while the sky showed a pretty ombré of warm colours. his senses doubled again and his whole body ached. he had to make you leave. it was already enough that his friends knew about his situation. there’d only be more trouble if you knew too.

“uh duh? the clock’s right there.” you pointed.

“hm, anyway you have to leave now.”

“sheesh i was going to anyway.” you rolled your eyes, but felt jaehyun’s palms behind your back. “hey stop pushing!”

“you’re too slow!” his tone changed. different than the usual because panic was what you felt from his palms. “quickly!”

the rest of the boys could tell you were pissed. they couldn’t understand why jaehyun had to make a fuss out of it when all he had to do was to kindly ask you. using force would only cause misunderstandings, like what’s happening now. “hey what’s your deal?!” you flicked his arms. “do you like to push people around? just because i’ll be with the team for the next two weeks, that doesn’t mean you could treat me like this already!”

“tsk so noisy! you’re wasting time! just leave would you?!” jaehyun turned you around towards the door.

this time you wouldn’t budge. “no jung jaehyun i need an explanation with this stupid attitude of yours!” you wriggled off of his hold, pushing him back with pats several times more that he stepped backwards.

“i don’t owe you an explanation!”

“you definitely do?!”

“why can’t you listen to what i say?”

“why can’t you stop being pushy, pushy?”

“you’re the one pushing me! time’s ticking y/n!”

the continuous back and forth of bickers and the war of pushing each other was an idiotic sight. your wrist was in jaehyun’s palms as he gripped you tighter. “i don’t care captain jerk! it wouldn’t bother you or hurt you to just give me one reason- and he slammed the door at my face! argh!”

jaehyun smirked wide and proudly knowing that he ‘won’ argument. silencing you was better than letting you see his other form. the boys stared him once he turned around to face them. “what?” he questioned,

“definitely not the right way to treat a girl.” they all said simultaneously.

“you know how bad it makes me feel when you all said it at the same time?” jaehyun pressed the bridge of his nose.

he knew well enough that this wasn’t his usual self. he’s good friends with you despite being in different teams of the school. you both took literature as your electives. sometimes you’d let him copy your notes when he had matches or leave small appetisers and juice cartons when he was tired and vice versa.

but no matter how close you both were, he couldn’t afford to let you see his other self.

not just yet.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

waking up so early in the day to assist the team was way more annoying than birds chirping by your bedroom’s window. instead of hearing their tuneful tweets, you had to endure endless phone calls every minute. you couldn’t remember much from that day because you passed out. and the team didn’t look for you until yesterday.

coach jung waved to catch your attention, only to be greeted with your huge yawn and a disinterested face.

“ah there she is! c’mon now, i got the green light from mrs. park. she agreed that p.e is the only subject you’re likely to fail this semester, so she’s giving you a cool-off from the team and focus on here.”

“yep. heard you coach.” you tied up your hair, only listening to half of what he said. “where’s the captain?”

kun did few stretches & jumps, his expression mirrored the other two boys who were also doing the same. you had a feeling about this— their telepathic gaze and awkward silence. you took a basketball to pass it to ten. “is he still mad about me calling him a jerk? that was a few days ago and i didn’t expect him to be that sensitive.”

they laughed because they couldn’t deny his obvious trait. “he doesn’t show it but somehow you know he is.” ten passed the ball back to you. “but not this morning y/n. he’s late for.. another reason.”

you hopped to catch it yet you were a second late, and groaned as you had to run far to retrieve it. “uh-huh. nature calls in the morning, again?” you yelled.

“do you think she knows about jaehyun?” jungwoo asked the older ones. they eyed you rummaging in the bushes for the ball, later looking back at each other for answers, but no one knew how your mind worked. “it’s been five days and no word from her at all.”

“if she actually does, i guess she just doesn’t want to be involved? i think we can trust her for that.” kun drank from his bottle.

ten didn’t look convinced. “involved or not, we have to make sure she doesn’t tell anyone about jaehyun’s curse. keep an eye on her-”

“ah!” they heard your squeals and ruffles from the bushes. “guys look what i found!”

kun sighed when they saw you running back with a golden retriever puppy in your arms, taking back his words said earlier.

“uh-oh. that scream means she has no clue at all.” jungwoo brushed his hair up.

“this puppy is so cute! i wonder what it’s doing here? are you lost?” you hugged and sniffed into its fur and gosh it smelled like vanilla shampoo. there was a metal collar around its neck, the piece spelled “jj”. “aww it has a name!”

no matter how happy you looked from the boys, they couldn’t help but take a photo of you and ‘puppy’ jaehyun. they had to tell you before it was too late. the golden hour in the morning was shorter than sunset, so either they would tell you straight up, or let jaehyun transform back to human.

but guess what? they were too late. they shouldn’t have second-guessed.

what had happened was way beyond your comprehension. it was in an instant. all it felt in totality was that, you weren’t carrying a puppy anymore. you lost balance and the weight in your arms doubled or tripled, you couldn’t tell. but you knew you were falling backwards. was there to brace for impact? none.

you blinked several times from the orange sunrise blinding your vision from the window. slowly you got up to sit and soothe the pain. that hurt..

here’s the thing. remember you mentally told yourself you hoped you didn’t run into any naked boy in the basketball team’s showers? there you have it. you jinxed it. jaehyun’s figure was on top of yours and you knew he had no clothes on. oh goodness.

“hyung? you forgot your lunch box- oh.” sungchan barged in the scene and everyone could tell he sort of malfunctioned. he froze then facepalmed.

you took turns into looking at the embarrassed jaehyun and at the boys who whistled to avoid the numbers of questions you were going to ask.

kun quickly shielded your eyes where your doubts were showing in your face. and no matter how much thought hard, you just couldn’t believe it. with fear written all over you, you dusted your pants and hands reached kun’s arm to support your weight.

“oh so you shielded her eyes but not my body?!” jaehyun’s voice entered your ears and you swore there was a hint of puppy whimper.

“this is a dream.. right?..” you asked before you fainted.

sungchan managed to save you from the fall. “whoa! ah, i had a feeling something like this would happen.”

—

“was she always like that?” minnie took a peep of your classroom, her eyes showed confusion. “is she tired?”

lisa shrugged and in her innocence she pursed her lips. “i don’t know. she’s been sighing a lot for the past hour? i wanna ask her but it might be too personal.”

you could her them and they were wrong. it was nothing personal at all. you’ve been sighing because you didn’t know how it was possible but it just happened— right before your eyes. since then you hoped that science could explain but not even the smartest people could give you a conclusion. you’ve been called out from lessons that came in the day and not that you didn’t blame jaehyun.

because for one thing, he at least told you the truth and the answer to your question as to why he had to make you leave that day. you propped your chin on your palms from jaehyun’s warning: “tell anyone i swear i’ll make you run a hundred laps with no water breaks.”

but the other thing? he was naked. and that’s not something you could erase in your memories overnight.

you let out a small whine that led to minnie and lisa copying your position, obviously making fun of you. “seriously, not a good time.” you laid on the table and hid from them. “don’t ask me anything.”

minnie and lisa looked at each other as you were being unreasonable and already gotten them curious with your remark. they both grabbed each of your arm, tugging on your sleeves where they begged nonstop for you tell them what had happened. they knew it was about the basketball team.

since you started to train and be with them, you’ve never complained. because if you did, coach jung would add another exercise for you, in which you knew you couldn’t handle. broken bones and sore muscles awaited for you. so you chose not to utter a single sigh, but you were careless just now and there was no escaping from these best friends of yours.

“c’mon y/n! tell us the deets! you sighing could only mean one thing.. did someone confess to you?” minnie closed her eyes and a wide smile suddenly became shrieks of laughter when you facepalmed. “oh who in the basketball team confessed?” she singsonged.

it’s not really a confession, jaehyun being a golden puppy is a secret that was never meant to be revealed but i happened to see him transform-

“what if it’s not a guy? maybe two? or three? oh gosh this is like a reverse harem anime-” lisa began to hype an awful assumption but you covered her lips. and plus? her voice was loud and how embarrassing it would be when the rest of the class heard it.

you were already restless at their energy. “none you idiots. i was sighing because i didn’t know that people with dimples would be that attractive.” you tried to divert the topic.

“pfft you’re talking about jung jaehyun?” lisa raised her brows and grinned teasingly to get a reaction from you.

“no, i’m taking about coach jung.” you hit her arm.

“but jaehyun’s his carbon copy, so you’re basically saying he’s handsome too.” minnie quickly rebutted.

“i mean, coach’s the original face so he’s definitely more handsome-” you paused. shoot they nearly got you to a corner. “wait- why are we talking about this? i thought we’re talking about me.”

“ah you were paying attention to our conversation?” minnie’s eyes grew.

“you’re not telling us anything dimwit.” lisa hit you back.

couple of squeals echoed the corridor and your classroom door crowded with people. apparently jaehyun stood by the door frame and scanned the room looking for you. when he spotted you, his face bubbled up and literally glided his way to your seat. you could tell he was slightly fuming, but you didn’t know what reason. “y/f/n! come here for a second!” he grabbed your wrists and pulled you up from your chair.

you tried to catch up with his pace as he continued to pull you. “let me go!”

jaehyun did in fact let go of you, but he instead led you to hit your back against numerous lockers. the squeals didn’t stop there and how that you were the centre of attention amongst all of the students, you had endure this for a little while. he was staring into your soul, eyes piercing that could strain yours, you knew he was pissed about something.

he slammed his forearms at the space right above your head, then the screams of giddy began to grow louder. you managed to see your friends at the far end of the corridor. they were smiling and lisa mouthed ‘kabedon’, making you flustered than you already were. “what do you want?” you asked.

“i thought i made myself clear?” jaehyun smirked as he felt you quiver against his skin. he leaned lower that his whispers tickled your ear. “did you tell anyone? your friends?”

“i’m not gonna risk my health for some dumb secret.” you rolled your eyes and crossed arms.

“please it’s not like our training puts your life on jeopardy-” jaehyun butted back.

“it’s safe with me. if there’s anything you’re worried about, just look at your fanbase. you’re making them sad.” you sighed, walking away and through the girls who has been following jaehyun around.

jaehyun exhaled at a rather slow pace. he liked your reaction and was aware of their presence. and in order to shoo them away, he had to do what he did. he just hoped you’d notice that too. “see you after school!” he yelled.

you briefly stopped in your tracks at his greet, you continued walking and pulled your girls away from the scene. you didn’t pay any attention, but you knew they couldn’t contain their smiles appearing on their faces.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the bags full of foldable cones fell to the floor. the rest of the team turned to your direction, who already made mistakes on the first day of camp. they knew that you were obviously flabbergasted with your encounter. it was funny that you managed to stride your way so quickly towards jungwoo— he was very much entertained with your expression. “i know right? that was me earlier.” he stroked the large pup.

“h-how did puppy grow so big? that’s an adult sized dog! you stuttered but hiding your love for golden retrievers just wasn’t possible. there were times you forgot that this was actually jaehyun. “it’s only been a week.”

“yeah i’d like to know the reason too.”

suddenly you heard jaehyun’s voice. it felt like he was close to your ears again, but he wasn’t anywhere near you.

remains of memories probably were still in you head. you wouldn’t say you were traumatised, just surprised. why the hell am i hearing his voice? you shook the thought off at first but then again-

oi y/n. beside you. i’m talking to you!

what?

you gasped and fell on your butt. the pup’s ears were on alert and you knew he was hearing you too. “you can hear me?” jaehyun’s dog form practically towered on your fallen self. you avoided his look although the pup was so cute. his paws poked your shoulders, whiskers twitching as he waited for your response. “don’t look away! you can hear me right??”

all the guys could see was jaehyun staring down at you. and while you did the same, your knitted brows only meant something was definitely going on. they wanted to know. “what’s wrong y/n?”

your lips shook in heavens knows it was fear. “you’re asking me what’s wrong? why can i hear jaehyun? can you hear jaehyun? oh my g- this is really really weird-”

“you can?” they scooted closer to you, very much intrigued with your gift.

“and you all can’t?” you pushed jaehyun away for his body was weighing you down. he whimpered and got up to sit in front of the boys too.

they shook their heads vigorously. “only sungchan and coach were able to hear him.” kun stated, typing on his cellphone to inform his family.

“y/n! let’s talk when i transform back!” jaehyun’s paws kept poking you again. you glared at him with a loud hiss. his ears were alert, he didn’t realise that he was clawing you already, and turned a few rounds before he was laying like a bagel-shaped position.

jaehyun thought it was pretty strange. never in his life were there any people who could actually converse with him telepathically. other than his family, you were the first and he was determined to find out why this impossibility was made possible. there was a spark of hope forming in his heart at this sudden revelation. the glow from the orange light then shone above your head, marking the end of sunrise.

you looked at jaehyun’s dog form, it was- correction, he was.. quiet, and was still staring at you as if you were his master. he laid on this front legs, snout on the ground. huh, he can actually be behaved. footsteps were closing in. at the distance, coach jung walked with lisa and minnie, who were in their cheerleading uniforms. right, you forgot that they were also included in the annual athletes camp.

for a moment you panicked because you knew jaehyun would transform back from being a dog. ten and rest knew more people shouldn’t know about jaehyun’s curse. they were glad you read the atmosphere too. seeing jaehyun’s jersey in his duffel bag, you grabbed it and wore it on the animal.

coach jung made eye contact to your direction. he diverted the girls’ attention, and led them away from the basketball court. they headed towards the storage to “retrieve” some equipment.

jaehyun grunted and growled, his fangs tried to bite your skin. however, goldens were known for having a soft jaw, so his bites weren’t that painful. when you finally managed to put the jersey on him, jungwoo couldn’t catch up. “why let him wear the jersey?” he questioned.

“so he wouldn’t transform back naked when lisa and minnie arrives.” you pointed out the obvious.

ten held his laugh in. you recognised this tone, and prepared what came after. “heh..” he trailed off. “is it because you want to keep jaehyun to yourself?”

you continuously threw random items at him as heat spread to your cheeks. “screw you!” you scoffed. “get jaehyun to wear his pants. i have to pack a lot of things before we head onto the bus.”

“yes ma’am.” ten nudged your shoulder. “i’m kidding y/n. don’t take my jokes seriously.“

“it’s fine.” you picked up the fallen cones. “you’re worried about people knowing his curse. so i’m just doing my part to keep it secret.”

he pursed his lips and his heart softened at your willingness to help. “hm, i guess i can trust you after all.” ten opened the bag to help you pack. “oh! and also, jae in his dog form already is naked anyway.”

“you think i’m not aware of that?” you rolled your eyes.

your friends already have settled themselves inside the coach bus and you were seated in between them. now they would get to witness you with the team and hoped for a budding romance with any of the boys. you lowered your face under a cap to pretend you were sleeping, but in reality you just wanted to avoid lisa and minnie’s bombardment.

few rows at front, jaehyun stared by the window, deep in thought. rarely spoke a word since they started their journey to the retreat campsite. why was his hunch telling him to get closer to you? why could you hear him and he could hear you? he slightly turned to his side between the gaps of two seats. seeing you giggling with your friends had him rethinking if what happened earlier was just his imagination. he wondered why you purposely ignore him after he transformed back.

he slid lower from his seat. “i’d understand if this was a soulmate thing, but it’s not.” jaehyun sighed heavily where he broke the silence and supposedly ending the conversation earlier. now that he wanted to talk about it, his friends were still up for the news.

“oh yeah. those things are going on. except it only happens to some people.” kun popped a chip in his mouth.

“i just don’t get it. dad told me that never occurred to anyone with this curse.” he stole the bag of chips from the younger one to relieve his emotions.

jungwoo’s pursed his lip in wonder. “maybe the curse in another light has its own blessing? maybe you guys are soulmates?”

“nah, impossible.” they all said simultaneously.

“it’s a possibility-” jungwoo’s face soured where wrinkles appeared on the sides as the boys flared at him.

jaehyun shrugged not knowing what to say. his friends have bizarre ideas throughout the journey, and he wouldn’t say they were wrong either. all he could do was to wait until the next transformation. maybe you would say your thoughts about it through telepathy.

he would know if time passed quickly when he didn’t pay attention to anyone. one of them was the number of times you waved in front of his face to snap him back to earth. “jaehyun?” you laid on the ground and called out, panting to catch air after your successful reps. you tugged the ends of his track pants.

“hm?” he hummed, looking for your voice until he got annoyed with your repetitive pulls of his clothes. “ah stop that. i have to report your record to coach. come with?”

“do i really have to?” you whined. “i could barely stand, my legs are wobbly and i’m hungry.”

jaehyun rolled his eyes and took your hand, pulling you up on your toes. “then let’s grab something to eat on our way to the camp, hm?”

you gulped at the sudden gesture, even more so when you noticed your heart beating faster around him. somehow your sixth sense told you your friends were somewhere in the woods looking at you, and you were right.

minnie had her binoculars by her eyes as you and jaehyun headed in another direction back to everyone else were. she held in her excitement with a huge inhale. out of curiosity lisa stole the binoculars from her. a growing smile showed her pearly whites when within its frame, jaehyun was pushing you from the back before he took your hand again because of how slow you were. “min, consider your reverse harem dream for y/n over. we found her leading man.”

—

“few more reps y/n! do it properly this time?”

jaehyun rubbed his face, raising his tone in question of your athleticism. it was the second and final day of your assessments. your core should be able to get used to the pressure if you’ve done the reps for two straight days. so as of today you salute to all people who persevered and with great stamina. you just.. weren’t that person.

you’ve grown conscious now that jaehyun’s friends were watching a few metres away. you’d prefer kun counting and timing your exercises over him. in contrast, kun’s a little more understanding than the hotheaded jaehyun. “if i say i can’t, shouldn’t you consider stopping here? it’s the last one anyway so put random number on the blank or something.” you struggled to lift yourself up from the ground, arms in an ‘x’ position over your torso.

“is that so? then you wouldn’t mind if i write ‘0’ for the final count?” jaehyun checked the stopwatch while his knees put enough weight on your feet. “at least do five more?” he sat on the soles of his shoes.

“ugh! fine!” you tsked and did sit ups slowly, eyes shut closed.

jaehyun smirked with how determined you were in finishing. and he has gotta credit you for having the last brain cell to endure his overly playful bossiness and plans up his sleeves.

but even his friends has something up in their sleeves. they whispered to each other and nodded heads as excitement already boosted their anticipation. ten cupped his mouth then giving the raised brows as signal to start. “y/n! jaehyun’s recording your expression with his phone!” ten yelled.

jungwoo’s mouth widened and followed along. “jae! there’s a bee behind you!”

“what?!”

“where?!”

the moment you froze and opened your eyes after bringing yourself up, and jaehyun leaned forwards to avoid the insect, was way too hilarious for the guys to see. both of your faces were centimetres away from each other and jaehyun’s ears already tinted pink. jaehyun already found it awkward to help you for three days, but he never prepared himself for something like this.

as his friends bursting out laughing, that was when he realised it was all their plan. you were still too close to him, so he cleared his throat to cut the gap between. “is that a pimple on your nose?” he asked, only for his nose to be smacked and soon be numbed. “agh!”

what the- “jerk! don’t point it out!” you kicked him and rolled sideways to stand up, angrily leaving the area with the sheet in your hands. “i’ll give this to the coach!”

jaehyun held his nose and walked back to the guys, who were still laughing their butts off and rolling on the ground. “you can stop now.”

“oh that was funny! it was like a typical ‘ba-dump’ scene in a rom-com!” jungwoo wiped a tear.

“should’ve recorded it!” kun threw his head back while his hand rested on his heaving chest.

“no worries! at least it’s recorded in jaehyun’s mind!” ten cheered with closed fists.

“it’s embarrassing!” jaehyun threw his towel.

bonfires were mandatory at the start and end of the camp. however, because of your assessment, coach jung had negotiate with the other members of the basketball to get to the campsite a day before the other teams actually arrived at night. so for the kun and the rest, they had a little more free time than jaehyun. and him being the coach’s son.. he didn’t have the same benefits. he was stuck with you because he had to keep an eye on you while

he thought being with you would only be for the first two days, then he would go for his training. and yet here you were, sitting beside him in front of the bonfire while everyone else arrived and other danced to their hearts’ content. maybe he could ask you about the telepathy thing? but figuring you were cranky from earlier, he held back.

“can i ask more about your curse? if it’s okay with you to tell me.”

jaehyun nodded, you had the right to. not because you accidentally picked a random puppy then saw him naked few moments later. you could hear him in your head, and that was enough reason to tell you rather than a general information about it. “yeah. i’m okay with it.”

“you said your ancestors had the curse too. was there any specific reason why they had to suffer that your family and you had to be the..” you paused for a while. jaehyun was waiting for your next words, you guessed it was alright to say it. “..collateral damage?”

“right. i didn’t tell you more of it yeah?” he sniffed from the chilly night. “i don’t know how far back in the years it happened. but they said the head of the family casted out his wife because he assumed he cheated on him. he was the only person the wife ever treasured, so when she was accused, she took his pet and killed it. the head found out, he cursed her that her descendants turn into animals. and we’re the descendants of that woman.”

“that’s awful.” you cleared your throat. “i’m sorry you have to suffer the curse.”

“you don’t have to be. i’m just trying to cope with it.” jaehyun chuckled. “how awesome would it be if there was a way to reverse everything.”

“gotta find the blessing then.” you laid on the grass.

jaehyun’s face wrinkled in disgust. “okay you sound like jungwoo.”

“at least appreciate me for trying to lift your spirits up.”

he hummed in agreement.

“or you can just.. let the blessing find you.” you singsonged as you realised how corny you actually sounded.

“fine, and if it’s you?” he had to give a hint of the telepathic communication.

“because i can hear you when you’re in your retriever form? i’m not exactly a blessing but yeah i’d like to know how telapthy works too.” you stared back at the bonfire, flames flickering as the smoke flew in the air. as of tonight, you wanted to be that person who’d be the igniter of that hope he held on. “if i could help out a little, i’ll be happy to help.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

lisa and minnie stared at you, both had their palms under their chins as if their silence asked you to talk. “i can’t eat when the two of you are like this. it’s very disturbing.” you gripped on your fork, hesitant to eat as you took glances between the food and them.

you knew what they were going to ask. not like you didn’t want to share, it was just that you knew them well enough that they wouldn’t stop once they start. the food was getting cold every second passed, due to the wind outdoors, it was more vulnerable. lisa stretched her elbows while holding her poms to be noticed. five days have gone by and even though you were rarely with them in all those days, she had to ensure you’d tell them about the basketball team and your leading man— although you had no idea about that.

“any updates?” she raised her brows.

“nothing is happening with me or anyone in the team, if that’s what you both wanted to know.” you sighed. “i’m just simply taking down minutes.” you said sternly, kind of regret that you answered her and swirled the noodles with your fork.

“are you sure? twelve members should be enough for that.” minnie tied her shoelaces and bent down with a pressed smile when you pout. she softened her gaze when you were telling the truth and that their teasing should stop there. but they knew that the team should know something about you.

“they’re divided into teams. some did the score board while others practiced on their own. of course i have to be the one- why are you pulling my arm?” you asked and eyed them as if they stained your clothes.

lisa twirled on her toes and posed with her arm rested on her waist. “you’re being quiet again.”

“i’m not?” you said monotonously while you munched on your food.

she sighed and grabbed your chin. “you don’t look at me when you’re lying.” she hummed, yet you didn’t respond. “what’s up y/n? something’s on your mind i can tell.”

in fact a lot of things were.

so far in the week, you’ve helped jaehyun theorise solutions to end his curse after practice. not only for him, but his family and extended family too. some have passed not having to enjoy their lives, while others chose to hide themselves from the world. and a small percentage of the family tree actually tried to live through it— that was jaehyun’s family. coach jung was as determined as jaehyun to put a stop into this curse.

not only that thought alone. to you, jaehyun has been rather noticeable. even if you weren’t thinking of him, he’d appear out of nowhere— during your breaks, on your night-walks alone or even heading to the toilet. you’d always bump into him and his presence seemed to be marked in your consciousness now. not that you liked him around, it was just captain was more friendly than others made him out to be. “really, it’s nothing.”

to say that jaehyun didn’t feel same was definitely an understatement. since the start of the freshman year, he knew you were the loud girl with the two hot cheerleaders, but always wondered why you’ve never joined the team. sometimes he would catch you sitting at one corner, dancing along with the routines aside from cheering your friends on as he was heading to practice.

now he took a peek of you eating alone while lisa and minnie showed off their new uniforms. he was about to call you out to help the team, but the girls pulling you almost immediately once you were done had him holding back. “chaeyeon will be arriving soon, and remember the dare was to wear our uniform.” minnie giggled while you begged her to stop, to the point you nearly cried thinking about it. “you agreed to it-”

“i didn’t agree to it! you agreed for me! i had no say!”

jaehyun’s eyes widened at the thought of you in uniform. your yells were getting louder and pitchier. should he be your knight and shining armour? probably not. he’d like to have something to tease you about. for a moment there was silence, he hid behind the corner of a storage building. you were still telling your friends to stop doing what they were doing. but it was two against one, and he knew you were at the losing end.

the door slammed open, your huffs and puffs getting heavier and closer to where he was. jaehyun’s heart beat so fast that when he finally decided to call out your name, you bumped into him and he caught you to prevent you from falling. “i was about to fetch you, manager.”

you felt heat spread your entire cheek because of the attire you were forced to wear. “well you did and i’m here. can we go? my friends are giving me the stares.”

“fiesty, but i think you look alright.” he chuckled when you grumpily walked ahead. jaehyun followed you from behind with his hands in pockets.

what does he mean by that?

lisa and minnie pursed their lips, soon bursting into giddy squeals and continuously fanning each other from what they saw yet the second time. “he was really checking her out.” minnie laughed.

“his ears said it all.” lisa checked her watch on her wrist. “basketball team’s practice match is starting soon. wanna sit in?”

“girl you bet i will.”

even hours later you blew your baby fringes blocking your view. as you flipped the score board and whistles for a time-out echoed the outdoor gym, your friends could tell how uncomfortable you were but they’d do nothing to get more reactions from you. they liked that you entertained them. and what choice did you have? chaeyeon was already taking pictures of you in the uniform you despised wearing.

coach jung briefed the team information on their opponents this season. you wrote down important points, feeling the chill of the early sunset. you couldn’t wait to change into actual soft and comfy clothes, mosquitoes weren’t your friends.

jaehyun listened to his dad repeating the same points- mostly because he got the advice first before others. he heard you hiss several times, you were supposed to jot the notes down. then it got frequent. he tiptoed to see you opposite from him, shooing the bugs away. of course you were still wearing the cheer uniform. he didn’t want to draw attention, so he stealthy walked behind the guys and straight to you.

“trouble?” he asked.

“just a little chilly, that’s all. meeting’s nearly done yeah?” you hugged the file to your chest.

“say so if you’re cold.” he took his jacket off and draped it on your shoulder.

“and who am i to tell to?” your voice challenging him.

he hummed so low that it almost lulled you to sleep. “me. i’m not the captain for nothing.”

you were both busy talking that you and him weren’t aware of time nor anyone else close by. mind you that minnie and lisa were watching the whole thing. you managed to smile even if you were crossed with how you were dressed. like you enjoyed his company.

they couldn’t hear your conversation, nor were your lips were moving. but the body language they saw already proved and confirmed their assumption. they had to tell you. they went straight to you once the meeting was over, and pulled you aside whilst jaehyun was talking about his childhood.

jaehyun raised a brow and chuckled as you were being pulled away. his friends immediately surround him, bombarding him with questions that he wasn’t paying attention to the meeting. “dude, your time’s near.” ten smacked him on the back.

“don’t make it sound like i’m dying, ten.” jaehyun rolled his eyes, but whenever he did, they were always fixated on you. he couldn’t shake off the feeling you were that something to solve the curse.

“be alert than be busted.” ten shrugged, head tilting to where you were. your friends were busy recording you and giggles filled the air. “how are you so calm now jae?”

jaehyun pursed his lips. “with her, there’s no way i’m calm at all.”

“okay now i can’t tell if that answer was from human jaehyun or doggy jaehyun.” jungwoo pointed out.

his friends all looked at each other, jaehyun wasn’t his usual self. it was as if he was dazed but was able to converse with them properly. slowly his naturally peach-like fuzzy cheeks grew more fur, his tail started to reveal. although they were quick enough to hide jaehyun, they didn’t realise the commotion that came afterwards and drew everyone’s attention.

you swifted your head at the boys’ yells and gathering circle, faintly hearing jaehyun’s refusal into whatever they got him into. “stop it! hey!” he hissed.

jungwoo, a little too excited of the drama going on, spotted you looking at them and gestured you to come over too. your friends built up a curiosity and went ahead of you. as for you, you were mentally tired to think of anything.

not until you heard kun’s wavering yet convincing words. “uh.. y’all wanna see magic?” he chuckled nervously as he knew what jaehyun would do to him after all this was over. “quickly because it’ll happen soon!”

you held in a laugh at jaehyun when he was forced to sit down on the grass to hide his tail. “i’ve been trying to master this for months and i thank jaehyun as my participant. who loves animals? give me a name.”

most hands were up and the answers were said at the same time. some didn’t believe him, but others have seen kun’s little magic tricks over the days. so something of a huge scale like this already got them curious than ever.

“ah i hear great ones but i’ll choose dog. now i’ll turn jaehyun into a golden retriever.” he draped a blanket above his friend.

ten and jungwoo bit their lips to contain themselves, holding onto each other as they filmed this once-in-a-lifetime event. the circle enlarged in scale with the poor lad at the center and the golden hour shone over everyone.

“in 3.. 2.. 1..” kun only snapped his fingers then the blanket shrunk in size. your schoolmates were convinced that something was actually happening.

and it was amusing because you were able to hear jaehyun swearing so much in your head.

you let out a giggle. jaehyun was soon surrounded by everyone who wanted to pet him. even your friends went over to the animal. “at least pretend to be happy for them. goldens are known for being clowns.” you told him.

*sighs* “tell kun i’m gonna kill him.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the silence was all jaehyun ever wanted after the shock he had to go through from kun’s improv few days ago. he’d be thankful for a moment because he actually forgot the gideon hour at the time, but he would soon later be clouded with annoyance that he should’ve been informed beforehand of his actions— not only kun, the others included. they’ve got a part in this too.

his friends seated side by side with bruises and bandages on their faces, jaehyun still giving them the silent treatment. he was cranky about that, yet even more so when there was no progress into finding a solution to his curse. “jae. we said we’re sorry.” jungwoo apologised and felt that he was the only one giving effort to talk to jaehyun compared to kun and ten.

“and i said it’s fine. so stop saying that before i actually don’t forgive you.” jaehyun pressed the bridge of his nose.

after walking up the slope to the cabin with heaves of breaths, you managed to hear their conversation before opening the door. “i refilled your bottles.” you threw them on a duffle bag, not caring whether either of them rolled away. “i have to apologise too, jaehyun. i haven’t come up with anything to help you.” true enough because you couldn’t think straight or have the energy to use your remaining brain cells for that matter.

“ugh it’s fine. i’m not in a rush or anything. not even assigning you to solve within the duration of the camp.” jaehyun squeezed the bottle as thirst continued to drive him crazy, the heat as well, so he removed his tshirt. you averted your gaze and looked elsewhere. maybe you were still a little bothered seeing him half naked after the incident?

ten sought the opportunity and decided to fan the flame even more. “why look away when you’ve seen him already?”

he managed to dodge your hits and you turned around embarrassed. jaehyun could see you fanning yourself from the heat. “it was an accident!” you cleared your throat.

“gah i’m tired. we’re done with practice. we get a day off tomorrow, so can’t we watch a movie? who has disney plus?” jungwoo wiped himself with a towel.

“i do.” kun brought out his ipad. “what do you wanna watch?”

“i haven’t watched that one.”

“beauty and the beast?”

“o-kay, i’ll be going now.” you yawned as you began to feel the exhaustion take over your body. “see you tomorrow.”

the door closed and suddenly you remembered a funny memory last halloween when taeil dressed himself as belle. he blended in with the other ladies that you didn’t realise it was him. either it was the wig’s work or just taeil in general. you found it funny when a bunch of young teens become children again as disney’s mentioned.

your phone vibrated with your friends asking to help them out with their practice. “i came to the camp for the basketball team, not you two.” you left a voice mail. all you wanted was to rest up today. not until a certain realisation hit you hard.

because what if?

it hasn’t been that long since you left the cabin when the boys jolted from their positions. their peace and concentration on the movie already ruined by you. “oh my goodness i think i got it?” you slammed the door.

jaehyun sat up and set his phone aside. “you’re saying it a question rather than a discovery. not convinced.”

“will you be when i tell you if it’s based on that movie?” you pointed at the tablet.

he trailed his eyes to the screen then back at you, a more confused expression on his face. “you expect me to find someone to love me so my curse will be lifted?”

“pfft nah kidding, you don’t seem that loveable anyway.” you stole a lollipop from ten. “okay bye for reals.”

as the door closed, ten unwrapped another lollipop. “bet you he’s thinking of his potential ‘belle’.” ten nudged the boys.

“shut up. i’m not going to base my life on a fictional movie.”

“but it could be y/n. i mean she can hear you.” jungwoo paused the film.

“it’s not going to be her and it doesn’t prove anything.”

jaehyun thought a lot for two things— you keeping his hopes up, the other was you setting his heart in a frenzy and he always hated that feeling. he groaned and dragged himself to bed to place a towel over his face. sure he’ll hold on to that idea you came up with for now. however it didn’t prove on telepathy.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

your heart missed a beat when jaehyun waited for you in front of the cabin you stayed at. he thought you bumping into his torso wasn’t a good way to greet in the morning, whereas you feeling some fur on his tshirt as greeting was any different. jaehyun handed you a file and a little note from coach.

while you read it, you could sense jaehyun was staring, like he had something to say. he retracted his lips when your friends appeared behind you with grins annoyingly appearing on their faces. “make it quick captain. we have things to discuss with y/n.”

“yeah sure. i just dropped by to pass this to you. coach said to make copies. i’ll come back after you’re done with breakfast.” he cleared his throat and announced his leave.

“hm. fishy. he could’ve just left it here outside but he seems like he waited for you.” lisa drank from her cup as you all sat and ate breakfast together.

“right? it’s been days he acted that way!” minnie walked back to the table. “he’s indeed a gentleman, but there are times he’s very hard to approach.”

you unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. “anyway, what is it you guys wanna talk about?”

“lisa will go first. she couldn’t wait.” minnie giggled.

lisa laid out series of pictures of nature she recently took and were indeed beautiful. “oh my goodness they look amazing!” you sat up. “as expected from someone in the photography club. i bet if you submit these to johnny he’ll regret putting you as backup-”

“really?! i took advantage of the retreat and i made sure they were pretty!” lisa interrupted you and placed more pictures down. “these are my favourite! i’m thinking of sending these to johnny instead!”

however your face turned sullen at the next pictures. they were blurry and almost gone, but it was definitely jaehyun at the background, each one showed he was transforming from human to dog. you paused and your heart did the same.

the silence got longer, you knew you had to speak up, but no words came out. “what’s wrong y/n?”

“you can’t submit these to johnny.” you brushed the first batch of pictures aside and bind latest pictures together.

“why not? you supported the rest of them! how could these be not good enough?” lisa’s voice changed in an instant, like you’ve taken away her pride. she sat back with folded arms, her behaviour scared you a little.

minnie slightly wiggled your hand. “hey, are you hearing to yourself y/n?”

“sorry, i know i sound stupid-”

“you are!” lisa huffed where her cheeks blew up. it was cute though.

“but you have to hear me out.” one thing was for sure, your stress levels shot up high if word gets to jaehyun. you had to prepare for the consequences.

“okay, so why can’t i submit them?” lisa sighed.

you held her hand. “it would be alright to, only if these are not in the background.” you said, pointing out a figure at the background of the subject. it all became clear as day to them when they looked closely. “did jaehyun just.. transformed?”

you were surprised with how quick they were able to catch on. as much as you wanted to protect jaehyun’s family curse, things would’ve turn for worst if someone else had noticed it. i’m sorry jaehyun, this is for your own good.

“we believed kun’s ability of illusion and his magic tricks. ten sent us a video of it and it didn’t really occurred to us that the golden was actually jaehyun.” minnie pursed her lips. “if you think about it, he does look like a golden.”

“how is this possible?” lisa asked with a growing smile, but refrained since transforming twice everyday was nothing good anyway.

“i found about his family curse accidentally. he turns into a dog when it’s golden hour, like sunrise and sunset.” you propped on your elbows.

“it’s a curse? poor lad.” minnie gasped.

a rather sad nod caught them off guard. “the coach signed me up to join this retreat. it’s not only for my missed p.e assessments but it was to keep his curse a secret. a-and now that you know, i’ll be damned if word gets to him. so you have to promise me you both don’t say or do anything..“ you sounded as if you begged. that was how much your the friendship you have with jaehyun meant to you.

“and yeah, that’s my answer. the magic trick was just a cover up to hide jaehyun’s dog form.” they listened and were surprised to hear you like this.

your fidgety hands and nervous breathing was too obvious. if jaehyun was just a friend, you wouldn’t act as if he was your- “oh no.” you slumped down on your arms. “why did i..” you mumbled as your feelings for him became clearer to you.

“oh my gosh. you like him! you like jaehyun!” lisa covered her mouth and changed the lingering negative atmosphere.

ba-dump. i..

“then that means your love for golden retrievers doubled!” minnie hugged you.

“no! it’s b-because you’re putting m-me in the spotlight-” you stuttered when they leaned towards you. “i’m gonna go.”

jaehyun flinched even though he was at a distance. your friends were yelling quite excitingly. you were being chased by them and although it was inaudible. he answered his phone as it was ringing for a while. “what, ten?”

“don’t ‘what’ me!” jaehyun tilted his head from his friend’s volume. “jae where are you?”

“i’m at y/n’s cabin and on my way bac-”

“nevermind that. i can see you.”

ten rushed towards him and looked at the cabin. “where’s lisa?” he squinted his eyes.

“just her and minnie chasing y/n out. i don’t know how but they left the door open. what are you doing here anyway?”

he mimicked a photographer’s gesture and pointed at the cabin. “lisa told me her pictures have developed and i’m here to get them.”

jaehyun flicked his forehead. “and you could’ve asked me instead.”

“they’re confidential and i’m shy if anyone sees it.” ten walked to the cabin.

“gross. just get them and head back quickly.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you lost track of the days that have passed and there was an unsettling feeling that stayed in your chest. had it been two or three? you couldn’t remember. the basketball team’s practice matches and drills were normal. but there was a difference in air lingering around jaehyun. he still talked to you, kept the same gentle smile and was caring as usual. except whenever he did those, it seemed like he was distancing himself from you, creating an imaginary wall just to let you know your limits and boundaries.

you’d like to think it was because of the pressure coach has been giving him since the play-offs were close to date. but, it wasn’t all jaehyun who behaved that way. ten also distanced himself, his gaze pierced against your skull and thinking about it only caused you to have migraines. you were more scared of ten.

coach jung have asked you to help the cheerleading team, saying you’ve helped them enough. the amount of appreciation he had for you was too much, you couldn’t ask him about how jaehyun recently. yet this was all too sudden that your gut feeling told you otherwise. you planned to talk to jaehyun after the day ends. because in all honesty, something definitely happened.

and the boys left you out of it.

approaching jaehyun was harder than you thought. now you’ve realised it, he was always the one who took the initiative and you on the receiving end took the benefits of his kindness. it was supposed to be the other way around, so why were you taking advantage of this?

if having feelings for him was the reason for that, then you’re really stupid y/n. you laid on the grass in defeat from your thoughts and closed your eyes. you decided to have some peace and nature was your best friend in time like these. chirping birds and crashing riverbanks-

“jaehyun where are you?!”

ah crap. you twitched hard enough that swarms of goosebumps appeared on the majority of your skin. on your stomach, you hid behind the bushes to see jungwoo and the others struggling to find him. even at the mention of his name you were already feeling shy and flustered.

“is he skipping practice again?”

“ah whatever let’s just leave him.”

“i understand why he’s like that.”

“even i would feel hurt if i were him.”

a heavy and deep audible breath from their sudden entry was difficult to hide your response. you tried to leave as quiet as possible. not wanting to get caught, you had to move stealthily with few glides backwards on your knees, eyes glued to the boys’ actions if they looked elsewhere. when you felt something blocking the soles of your shoes, somehow you knew what it was.

“you’re blocking my way.” jaehyun’s irritated tone made your chest ache— in the most painful impact you never expected from him.

quickly you stood up and made sure you stayed out of sight from the boys. jaehyun scratched his temple at your awkward behaviour. he was already in front of you, why were you hesitating to ask him questions he left unanswered? jaehyun pulled a long face when you still remained silent. “if you’re not gonna speak when you clearly have something to say, do i really have to say it for you?”

what the hell is his problem? what’s with his tone? “yeah as a matter of fact i do. the thing is, i don’t understand why you’re being like this. you ignore me but still talk to me when i don’t help with the team anymore, and for some reason you’re mad at me?” you grimaced while leaning on a tree trunk.

there was cynism in jaehyun’s nods and the swirls of his tongue evident on his cheeks. you hated his attitude and all you wanted was an explanation. “whatever this is, i’ve got no reason for you to doubt me, jaehyun.”

“ah, really? ‘cause you just gave me one.” he fished out something from his pockets and as you watched, the item he was holding was too familiar and they were obviously not his. he flicked the sheets and that was when you confirmed they were the new pictures lisa developed.

why were they with him? at the pit of your stomach, a whirlwind of emotions and stressing pressure began, and you didn’t like the feeling at all. “what-”

he threw the pictures on the floor. “other than my family and friends you’re the only one who knows about my curse! and at some point you go against my back telling them to picture me when i’m left clueless?!”

right now you were really afraid jaehyun’s mood would attract attention.

you closed your eyes as he raised his voice. “look i have no idea how you got those but i promise you i had nothing to do with the picture-” you insisted and could feel your blood pressure rising.

“how- how could you betray me like this?!”

your heart fell and instead of feeling bad about him knowing, you felt your head ache with so much anger building up inside you. because jaehyun didn’t bother to listen or let you explain yourself.

“i found you in the background before lisa actually showed those to johnny! it would spread if she did! where’s the betrayal in that?!”

he stepped closer to you, your entire was itching to run away. “i don’t care! you still told your friends! you could’ve said another excuse like kun’s practicing his magic trick or something! you promised me my secret’s safe with you!”

that’s messed up. i did tell lisa and minnie but not because it was to mock him!

“kun was no where to be seen in the picture! what else can i do? lie to them? i know my friends more than you do and they won’t tell anyone!” you raised your voice as well.

jaehyun scoffed, rolling his eyes. “i don’t trust them!”

“well, i do! and you should trust me!” your tone wavering at all emotions hitting you at once. especially coming from him— the guy you developed feelings for.

“the moment you told them you broke my trust already! what else did you tell them, hm? my dad and brother having the curse too?” he brushed his hair in anger when your silence meant yes. “ugh is this really happening?! you told them everything!”

“okay that’s enough-” your vision blurring from the tears wanting to fall.

“i’m asking what else did you tell them?! dammit y/n what could be so important to you than my secret?!”

“well- i-”

“i what?!”

other than the secret, you knew what went after the reveal. then you realised the weight of your words, you couldn’t tell him that you actually like him. you wanted to be selfish this once. “i can’t.. tell you.”

jaehyun started to harbour more resentment towards your reasoning. he found it ridiculous of you to even continue with this conversation. ten already warned him that the secret wasn’t safe with you in the first place. the glimpse of hope faded when he thought you’d be the key, even if you were, trust was still important to him. it was the very thing his mother lacked and you doing so reminded him of it.

his expression darkened and you were afraid of him— excluding of how cruel he was with you on the exercise reps. you were afraid you just broken a promise and put your friendship on a rocky end.

“so that’s it? i’m begging you with my life on the line and you just gave me the most bullcrap answer!”

“you’re being unreasonable!” you yelled.

“shut up! you found about my curse so you should be the one compromising!”

“y/n!” lisa came running with a panicked face.

tsk, wrong timing. “not now.” you mouthed.

“have you seen my pictures?! i told ten to get them the other day but he got the wrong envelope! it’s the one with jae-” she bent down to catch her breath and was taken aback with jaehyun’s presence. “..hyun.”

the boys followed lisa and once they found their friend, you could tell ten’s stares that felt like daggers. he pulled jaehyun away but eyes still locked on you. “what happened?” lisa asked as you mirrored ten’s expression, but your friends could see the hurt in your eyes.

“he has the pictures. i think ten saw them and gave them to him. jaehyun’s mad, he thinks i betrayed him for telling you-”

“no that’s not it!” lisa held your hand and glared at the boys, especially ten, since he was her childhood friend. “you had every right to tell us because the pictures are my works-”

“shouldn’t have said anything further y/n! you should’ve gotten the pictures and told us instead of them! you promised, remember?” ten finally spoke up.

you rolled your eyes. “and what?! you’re like saying i should risk my friendship for his stupid secret!”

his friends turned heads to jaehyun to see his tight-knit brows and softening demeanour. jaehyun frowned and hurt was evident in his face. he was hurt by you, someone he developed feelings for in a short amount of time. “i believed it when you said you’ll help me. or were.. were all those just words to you?”

ah.. that came out wrong.

you bit your lips to say something, but they left so soon after, making your chest squeeze as if your lungs let out the last bits of oxygen from your body.

shortly over an hour, jungwoo watched his friend pace back and forth, nibbling on his nails when the tension grew in their cabin. “aren’t you too hard on her? you didn’t let y/n explain further-”

“i can’t believe her!” jaehyun crumpled the picture after looking at it. “how could she do this to me?!”

“honestly i just don’t think she’s that type of person to go behind someone’s back for her own entertainment.” kun spoke up and tilted his head, avoiding the cup that smashed on his side of his cheek. “perhaps you’re mistaken.”

jaehyun wasn’t in the right headspace whenever his past trauma was reminded or brought up, so no matter how much reason was given, he wouldn’t listen. “do i have to repeat it? she already had her fun when she told her friends to picture me!”

“your explanations are always so conclusive.” kun sighed.

“and your heart’s too soft as usual, kun! so back off!” jaehyun grabbed the older one’s shoulder and shoved him against the wall.

he released him soon after realising that he didn’t once listen to you, but he was too stubborn to take any more excuses. there was one thing he thought you were wrong— weren’t you risking your friendship with him by exposing his secret he kept so dearly? maybe distancing himself more than he did would clear his mind off from the mess.

—

when all sports teams lined up with their designated coach buses the days after, jaehyun slightly put his chin up to search for you in the crowd— in a subtle manner, since he still stood in his decision into having his space from you yet didn’t want it to be obvious to others that he cared for you still.

you knew he was staring from afar. it was a stupid misunderstanding, both of you were in the wrong, but he made you feel as if you carried the blame for this.

sure that was a given, that he would react worse than expected. you were going to take the pictures from lisa anyway, and the guys wouldn’t know that your friends knew. you didn’t expect you’d burst out of anger or that ten took them before you did and made the assumption. it still drove you mad, ten probably convinced jaehyun of your doing since he didn’t trust you at first.

that aside, you decided to ride the coach bus with the cheerleading team. “when we reach school, you can forget about the basketball team and camp. how dare they hurt you?” minnie hugged you as you stared out the window.

“if i had to weigh it, it’s not me who’s hurting. jaehyun is.” you sighed and pat her back. “how do i act if i bump to any of them? i’ll probably do something stupid again. at all cost, i’mma just- *sigh*”

“she’s talking about jaehyun right?”

“yeah she’s still not straightforward about him.”

“we know she likes him. she doesn’t have to hide it.”

“i can hear you both.” you lowered your hat to avoid their gaze.

jaehyun sat beside his father at the front for a change, playing with the blinds to cover sunlight. coach jung knew his silence more than anyone, even if jaehyun didn’t plan on telling him. “i’ve done what you told me to do. you didn’t want to see y/n after the fight. so? did it to any change?”

“no. i kept my distance and i’ll see if she’ll admit her mistake.” jaehyun adjusted the fan above him.

“jae, if only you saw her reaction when i told her to not come see the team. i know you’re smarter than this. you know it’s not all her fault.”

he clenched his palms hard. crescent moons soon showed themselves on the flesh. “where exactly in this is my fault, dad? have i not been patient to wait for curse to be broken? who said that y/n might have a contribution in this? it’s you, dad. i’m not holding any grudge against y/n. i’m just disappointed at her because she’s nothing i ever imagined her to be. goodness’ sake i even like her.” he mumbled at the last sentence, missing the point that his dad could hear it.

coach jung let out a short laugh at the remark. “not sure if you noticed, you haven’t seen y/n working hard at researching about our curse while you boys practiced. she’s always brainstorming at the possibilities, science or not, she’s always looking for ways. don’t let anger cloud you.” his father paused and had a pressed smile. “..don’t end up having small fights like me and your mother. you wouldn’t want it to be bigger than it already is.”

“yeah.. i know.”

you woke up with a thud and saw a rather prominent bump on your right temple through the reflection of the window. arriving at the campus grounds was quicker than you thought, despite being almost a half day journey. you overheard that the basketball team would stay there a little longer and you had to leave immediately because once everyone has gone home, you’d see him. you didn’t want to risk yourself from being spotted after you both fought.

it was a small matter now that you think about that day. stubbornness outweighed understanding in the two of you, and that resulted in immaturity. and if neither of you were willing to admit, might as well make the first move.

but you were stubborn as he was.

once the coach bus was nearing the parking area, the first and only thing you decide to do was get out of the vehicle and head straight home. you wouldn’t let your friends speak and looked at their bus. there sat jaehyun fiddling with the curtain. you then rushed out, covering your face from the basketball team as they too were getting off. “is that what she meant ‘at all costs’?” minnie facepalmed as she saw you walking away quickly.

“oh look, there’s y/n.” coach jung tapped the window to make jaehyun notice you. the way you behaved was weird for him, because it was too obvious you were avoiding getting seen.

“i don’t care.”

“it means you do.” his father messed his son’s hair. “okay, off you go. i’ll cancel the extra practice today and let all of you rest up during the weekend.”

jaehyun’s lips agape at his father’s last minute decision. he wore his cap and slung his bag. “if you’re doing this and expect i’d make up with her, you’ll regret ever cancelling practice.”

“ah c’mon. your old man is helping you out with a girl. can’t you tell what i’m doing, jae?” he laughed at his son’s reaction. he could see himself in jaehyun and knew things would get better.

“it won’t work dad.”

he rolled his eyes and went to where the bikes were parked. he kicked the stand at the rear wheel when his friends caught up to him with their own bikes. goodness why can’t they just leave me alone? “what do you want?” he stood a little to pedal ahead.

kun rode along beside him, eyes alternating at and on the road. “what now? you’re just going to pretend you didn’t see y/n? like nothing happened?”

“how can i ignore that when her figure’s so obvious and literally running away from here? i’m not going to do anything about-”

jungwoo then sighed heavily, causing jaehyun to knit brows. “she looked over our bus you dimwit! that means she thought of talking to you but held back because of-”

“i’ll talk to y/n in my own terms and in my own time! stop forcing me to do things when you think it would work well for me!” jaehyun pressed on the brakes with his palms.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

kun and jungwoo’s eyes followed your swirling fork and the silent air that had been going for half an hour. they thought knocking onto the doors of jaehyun’s closed heart was hard, never expected yours was harder. you wouldn’t say anything after they invited you, claiming they missed you around them.

because it had been two full semesters since then. from what the boys told you, jaehyun lost focus and couldn’t lead the team to the championships. he always fought with his father and would burst in anger, throwing unnecessary fits towards them even though they worked hard to reach the quarterfinals.

this behaviour would happen so often that it began to strain his relationships with everyone on the team. the transformation did a lot worse to his body, he’d get sick and weak, and for over months, he would not transform back immediately within the golden hour ended. it lasted longer. sometimes even the morning after.

it worried them that if jaehyun given up all hope and continued to act that way, the urge to find the solution would never take place. and that he would remain an animal forever. even so, you knew their intentions to invite you today despite feeling sad for jaehyun. and you prepared your answer before they could speak.

“y/n-”

“as much as i love to stay, i’m here to tell you you’ve wasted your efforts. if jaehyun won’t talk to me.. then i’ll just keep giving him space until he apologises first.” you were already losing appetite talking about it.

“and you think waiting game would pull off too, hm?” kun’s dimple deepened, a flat smile seen on the exterior.

you put down your fork. “i didn’t think we’ll last this long not talking-”

ten smirked in disbelief, you forgot he was there too. his presence was almost non-existent as he kept quiet the whole time. “keep it like that. you’re held accountable for making jaehyun the way he is now.”

“ten!” kun scowled at the guy. “i told you not to talk.”

you rolled your eyes that his words hurt more than the eye roll. “why is he here anyway? you said it’ll only be the two of you. unbelievable.”

“to see if you came up with a solution to lift jaehyun’s curse. looking at you now, i guess you didn’t.” he said and you tried your best to refrain yourself from hitting him. “were you mocking him when you suggested it might be the same answer as that disney film?”

“i said as a joke but it might be a possibility. we live in a world where people go through inexplainable experiences that science couldn’t dive in deep.” you sighed.

jungwoo tapped the table to stop the bickering you and ten were starting. “like my hunch says, maybe it’s another soulmate thing i’ve mentioned to you guys at the camp.”

“it’s not a soulmate thing, jungwoo.” kun and ten said simultaneously.

you brought out an a5 sized sealed envelope and the action alone made the boys stunned. “don’t open this. just give it to him. anyway, the sun’s setting. i really have to go.” you passed the item to kun.

it’s suffocating. i can’t stay here long. they saw how hesitating your limbs were, your eyes averting them and clearing your throat several times.

“ten, does this look like she didn’t do anything? this proves she’s trying.” kun took the envelope and hit it on ten’s head.

as you put on your coat whilst standing next to the table, ten sat back with arms crossed. “acting smart, aren’t you? you really think you’re the belle for jaehyun huh? i wouldn’t believe that for a second.”

“i didn’t say anything about me being the solution. i’m still keeping my promise to help him. and trust me, i don’t think i’m belle either.” you grabbed your bag and left, your food gone cold and jungwoo sighed at the air turning worse thanks to ten.

the cash money was placed on the table when kun called the waiter. “please keep the change.” he looked at your slouching figure by the bus stop across the restaurant. it screamed sadness and hurt all over.

the reason for suddenly leaving wasn’t because you were offended with what ten said. of course there was truth in his words. at some point you thought you were someone important to jaehyun, since you could hear him.

you thought you both were soulmates.

you left because you spotted a familiar figure standing by the door. haven’t been seeing him lately only made you feel angry at yourself. you were a coward, you even passed the envelope to the boys instead of giving it to jaehyun yourself. your friends already encouraged you about it, that that was the only thing to narrow the gap between you and jaehyun. it was to show that you were still supporting him.

why are you like this y/n? if you like him, you’d do anything to get his attention and forgiveness. why are you doing things to push him away, rather.. why are you forcing yourself to not care when you still do?

you continued to walk with your head low for another hour, troubled in your thoughts as they’ve been bothering you for many months. snap out of it y/n-

*tug*

*scratch*

the hems of your baggy jeans were pulled and torn with minimal, adorable force. it took you a while to process the animal before you. a blue bunny, what’s a bunny doing here- oh.

“sungchan?”

—

he rose from the bushes in front of their house. you stood there awkwardly while he figures to cover his body after the blue hour. “i’m sorry for asking you to bring me home. i get tired from hopping sometimes.” he grabbed a towel that he was hanging by the gate.

“no worries. i-i’ve seen- nevermind.” your voice softened at the latter.

sungchan pursed his lips to refrain himself from smiling since he was there and witnessed when it happened. “come in, i’ll make you some tea. it’s my way of thanks.”

although he was kinder than his brother, probably more mature, he was still young that you could see through his intentions. you knew he wanted some patching up done between you and jaehyun. you hesitated for a while, but since you were there already, might as well try to talk to him—

even if there was a slim chance of making things work.

you sat on the sofa, slightly still and awkward being in the residence. little sips, light breathing and the soft wind from the fan were only heard within the living area. “did my brother cause you a lot of trouble during the camp?” sungchan asked and knowing that you were silent, he knew jaehyun probably did. “how about now?”

“actually, i think i’m the one causing more trouble for him because i feel like i’m not doing anything to help when i said i would.” you sighed as he continued to listen.

“really? i heard from the others you’re helping so much that it changed my brother.. at the least he’s not cranky.” his nose twitched so adorably that you thought it was derived from being a bunny almost his whole life. “also, there’s that envelope-” he paused while realising how your expression caught him off guard.

maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned it, but he wanted you to know he wasn’t spying on you. he made that clear with his silence.

if he saw that back at the restaurant, that only meant he was there for quite some time. you let out a small smile that he was probably there not for you, but to wait for his brother’s friends. instead of bumping into them, he bumped into you.

“oh, that. it.. has a bunch of handwritten letters i’ve compiled when i struggled talking to jaehyun. i just felt that maybe it’s more sincere if i had to apologise.. y’know, eventually.”

he pursed his lips and nodded. “then why not put those words into actual words? like verbal words.” sungchan’s fingers pointed upwards, hinting that jaehyun was up in his room. “for all i know it’s the most sincere thing to do.”

crap, he’s not expressive but he’s so so mature for his age. it made you feel inferior for a moment.

“but before you do that, i have to tell you something that my dad and brother missed out about our curse. why jaehyun-hyung is more pressured than i am.”

(few minutes later)

you slid against the wall while sungchan went out to do grocery shopping. at the other side of the door, in between the thin gap, you could hear soft breathing; jaehyun was on his bed, sleeping in his dog form and it hurt you since time already passed both golden and blue hour, he should’ve transformed like his brother did. instead he laid there as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

meanwhile, jaehyun knew you entered his room. he pretended to be sleeping and expected he wouldn’t know how to act when he gets to face you. he decided to stay as he was.

until you pat then caressed his head.

he didn’t want to settle or give in for the fact you loved golden retrievers. he blamed on the shallow euphroria dogs easily feel. and because he was in his dog form, the anger he held for you disappeared. but at the same time, was your touch out of care or pity? he couldn’t figure it out. then he could hear the beats of your heart, and that made him sit up. your heart was fast. it was worrying. it was—

“why didn’t you tell me the whole story?” your voice wavered in heaving breaths as he finally looked you in the eye. his ears twitched and he faced the door, knowing that sungchan told everything.

jaehyun shook his body and whiskers moved before he telepathically answered you. “believe me i tried. i hate myself for being sensitive and i couldn’t bring to tell you because i got angry. but you have to know that i value trust more than anything.”

“you know what’s ironic?” you sighed, pressing your forehead as pain began to form. “you didn’t trust me first and and we fought because you didn’t do that. and you didn’t trust me enough that you only told me what, like 50 percent of it?”

of course he knew what you referred to.

he was going to tell you the day he visited your cottage at camp. but he didn’t get to, because ten told him news ahead of him that it ruined the purpose to talk to you. it wasn’t that he blamed him, it was due to the fact he wasn’t prepared for something like that. even for something like this.

because there was that prophecy weighing on his shoulders.

“sungchan said that it has to directly come from you, so you better tell me now before our friendship falls out.” you warned and leaned back against the headboard.

currently your friendship was on the line, wobbling on tight ropes. pushing you further away would do no good.

jaehyun sat and his paws were dignified into a comfortable position. his head laid on a cushion pillow, facing towards you. “fine. most of my family turns into wild animals, and they couldn’t control themselves in that other form. their wildlife instincts overpowers their thoughts.” he yawned.

“and it’s different for me and sungchan. when we were born, when we had our first full transformation, they were shocked to know we turn into domestic animals. we’re able to remember, think and live as if we’re still humans. at the end, it’s either of us to stop the curse.”

“so why did your brother mention that you’re the most pressured? why did it only have to be you?” this time you spoke, there was more depth into your feelings if you spoke. as sungchan said, verbally was more sincere. “you could share the burden with him.”

he sighed at the tone of your voice. “isn’t it obvious? the role is immediately passed onto me not because i’m the first born.. it’s because you suddenly could talk to me.. telepathically.”

“yeah and we couldn’t even figure that one out yet.” you scoffed remembering the times you’ve placed your efforts on that matter and now it had gone all to waste. all because you both had that fight.

he read through your eyes and sensed the intention from your words. plus he hated how you delivered it with that certain tone. “i didn’t bring this up just to blame you for my own satisfaction!” he groaned. “i brought it up so that i can apologise! i was wrong, okay?! i should’ve listened to you instead of carelessly listening to ten-”

you refrained yourself from showing any further hurt. recalling it would only make you cry. “well you were manipulated with ten’s assumptions. you believed him more than me. he had proof while i didn’t. i was in the losing end! not like i expected you to change your mind. so can we just.. get this overwith and tell me what the prophecy is?”

he was speechless for a while. you being straight-forward yet in a pained voice was too much for him. he was already softening his feelings for you and you had to tense it all up again. “‘only one could save those who lay under the curse, for they must be in the correct peace of mind and body to break it before it turns for worse.’”

“and the ‘worse’ means you won’t transform back anymore?” you asked, the prophecy already piercing your heart as you waited for more explanation.

“that and..” he trailed off. “..we lose our humanity too. we won’t remember anything. memories erased like a snap of the finger. and we’ll just be.. another animal.”

you pushed yourself to sit up as your heart clenched tight. “jaehyun! why say it now and not before?”

“because! what is there for you to do-”

you squished the dog’s into a wrinkly mess, to the point jaehyun couldn’t see anything. his paws tried to put your arms down, but even clawing was hard for him to do. then he felt you lean forward to hug him. “y/n? what’re you doing?” you didn’t answer.

crap, this is warm. it feels.. nice. embarrassed, he put his thoughts at the back of his mind. “are you doing this out of pity? do i look that helpless-”

what crossed his mind was that you thought he needed a hug and was the only thing you could do. but you proved him wrong, so, so wrong. and why didn’t he realise it sooner in his life?

“you have to treat yourself like someone you love!”

what?

“you have to fill yourself with it! have you been thinking half-heartedly or do things half-assed because you’re different from people? do you not realise there are people who loves you? you trust them so less that you’re not confident into breaking the curse! because you didn’t really try!”

he froze in his stance, like a bullet pierced through his chest with how true your point was. he didn’t know what love was when his mother left the family. he didn’t dare to open up with his dad and brother, not his friends as for so long he didn’t do that one important thing— trust.

jaehyun thought he did that. he had enough encouragement but only to the level of content. he didn’t expect more as what else was there for people cursed like his family? “why are you so worried or do this much for me?”

“because no one actually helped you!” your arms tightened around him. “your friends were occupied into thinking that protecting you and your curse from others was the safest thing to do. it’s not! it just gets you self-conscious, conceited and too comfortable to not to do anything at all!” everything you said knocked down the pillars of his pride. he wasn’t at all living in humility if his friends did ever help.

“y/n we’re nothing more than friends. how could you be pushing yourself onto my problems-”

“i’m one of the people, jaehyun. don’t you get it now? i l-”

as if the phone line got cut off, he couldn’t hear the rest. you appeared like a television who lost its voice, however, somehow he knew what came after that. he didn’t want to admit it, after spending time with you at camp, he realised his heart felt the same.

you were quick to catch on. the golden retriever just stared at you, you couldn’t hear him as well. not even telepathically. jaehyun laid back down, ignored you and went to sleep. you nudged him, he wouldn’t move. you felt a swarm of blame towards him. if only he told you earlier, he wouldn’t be in this state where he was just another dog. mostly you blamed yourself for not taking the initiative first to fix things. you went along with your anger and his waiting game.

where did it get you? to this.

the one second revelation he heard from you and then fell into slumber, he was standing in front of himself, before a mirror. a series of himself switching from human to animal throughout the years. the glass cracked over his face. as if he entered a new world, he had to prepare mentally for what was to come.

instead he awoke like he only passed out from exhaustion. to only see you hugging your legs, head down with soft sobs and hiccups, he reached out for you yet hesitated. he checked the time, the golden hour was to arrive.

“y/n.” he called out in a low voice.

“no.” you mumbled. “i shouldn’t be hearing him.”

“but you really are, though.”

you shot your head up, tears rolling down your cheeks when you felt his touch— his large palms holding yours. he transformed, you had many questions as you thought it was too late.

confused and tired, you stared at him blankly. processing the guy before you took a whole minute to realise jaehyun transformed back. “is.. is this a joke?” you coughed and rubbed your tears. “i saw you faint- i saw how you lost the light in your eyes- i saw-”

he’s blushing. his ears are red.

jaehyun pulled you into an embrace, he caressed your head as if he held a newborn. “the curse broke around the time i realised i lacked self-care. it was the same time you said it too.”

looking back, he didn’t treat himself right since the beginning. he realised he shouldn’t have looked for a solution or someone to love him. he was the someone he was looking for, and should’ve reflected on himself than to rely too much on others.

“you’re still hugging me.” you said, stopping his trail of thoughts. you pat his back quickly and he was holding you tight. “you’re squeezing the oxygen out of me.”

“can’t i hold you longer? you’ve been so helpful even when i pushed you away. now i don’t really want to let go.” jaehyun whispered. he never felt something like this before— this urge to love someone. “what if the curse comes back when you go away?”

you felt your head bursting with temperatures your body was experiencing now. “you really have to let go!” clearing your throat, you tried to shove him away.

“no. don’t be stubborn.”

“don’t be clingy, clingy!”

“you want me to hug you though.”

“i do but- wait no that’s not- i-”

he squeezed your face between his hands. “you love me, don’t you. and you said i’m not loveable.” he teased and goodness his dimples shot you at the heart. you kicked him in the chest yet he leaned forwards, closer than usual. “i can feel your veins beating crazily.”

ah for crying out loud! “jung jaehyun.” you called him with a stern and plain voice. “get off me.”

“tsk i said i wouldn’t-”

“jaehyun you’re naked.”

hm? he pulled himself away from you, looked down and covered his lower body. ah heavens- “i’m sorr-”

a thud was heard by the door. you both turned heads to sleepy sungchan dropping a parcel delivered to jaehyun while holding a toothbrush with his mouth and prominent bed hair. “uh bro, this is-”

“dad! i think hyung’s in his mating season!”

“i’m so not!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

because the curse was lifted and jaehyun made it happen, all those who fell under it soon experienced freedom and joy after years of agony and pain and fear. feelings opposite to them showered upon them that morning like spring rain.

you sat in between jaehyun and ten, who haven’t been talking to each since they fought over little things, mainly about you. ten still didn’t believe that you were jaehyun’s girlfriend, because he recalled you guys were not going to mend things.

“so that’s it? it’s so hard to believe. she just hugged you and the curse’s gone? even more so you’re both dating?”

“ten, c’mon dude.” kun brought out his fist to bump yours. “she’ll be hanging with us from now on. you have to stop being a stuck-up.”

ten shrugged in defeat and finally nodded in acceptance. “fine. i’ll let it go. i mean the curse’s broken won’t bother jae anymore.” he turned to you. “i’m sorry y/n. jae and i have been best friends since kindergarten. so it’s kinda a brotherly instinct to protect him. it just comes out.”

“you do seem like the leader of the pack.” you fiddled with jaehyun’s fingers while he draped his arm around you.

“i thought i was the leader?” kun sounded offended, but not entirely.

jaehyun remained quiet. he told everyone what had happened. however, there was still one question left unanswered. what was the telepathy about?

what did it have to do with you and him? he thought about that real hard. were you actually a missing piece in the prophecy or did he misunderstand it? there were a lot of possibilities, a lot of ideas coming up that maybe he figured it wrong. maybe you did contribute to the breaking of the curse-

“ah!” jungwoo exclaimed as flicked the paper back and forth. he proudly showed what he found, putting the pieces together. the paper was moving quickly that the pairs of eyes couldn’t focus or see anything. “i’ve been telling you guys since camp but you wouldn’t listen to me!”

you squinted your hardest to see the words. all you got from the sheet of paper scribbles and connecting lines. the boys started to fight for the so they could read the younger one forcibly shoved in front of their faces.

jungwoo wanted his friends to feel their pride stepped on them, and held on the paper. “read the prophecy again. i’m excited-”

“you being excited about these things is nothing new-” ten yelled, and kun covered his mouth at the loud volume.

“‘only one could save those who lay under the curse, for they must be in the correct peace of mind and body to break it before it turns for worse.’ guys, it’s already hinted in it!” he pointed at the parts he was scribbling on earlier.

he expounded the prophecy was a little misleading. it wasn’t being literal about the right mind and body. they were the results of the having the correct heart, as the two would only be affected greatly if not for the heart.

jungwoo scooted next to you. “y/n, you weren’t only the key to solving it. you were the only person who gave him that push and made him realise he should love himself for who he was. you gave him that peace of mind because you are the heart. as we all know, the mind and body can’t function without the heart.”

“that sounds sweet?” kun blushed even though he wasn’t supposed to.

“yeah sure but the telepathy happening at the same time with my curse was just a coincidence though?” jaehyun asked.

“onto my next point!” jungwoo drew on the paper again. “i realised you told us before that only family members of the same curse can talk to each other telepathically.”

jaehyun’s brows only furrowed narrower. “which doesn’t make sense because she’s not part of my family.”

jungwoo grinned widely, it almost made you nervous but if it was coming from jungwoo, it always had to be something good. “not even us lads can even talk to you with our minds though we’re close like brothers. what if it’s a sign that she will be part of your family? even if the curse’s broken, it still proves my point that you were soulmates all along.”

somehow you knew it was headed to this. what jungwoo’s saying was similar to your hunch. you weren’t confident as he was because at the time, the curse wasn’t lifted. now that it was, you never knew you were actually right.

jaehyun shrunk in his seat after hearing jungwoo’s theory. he looked at you; who was now giggling with the others. he never thought you were his soulmate, it never crossed his mind. you appeared in his life as a shadow at first, before you resurfaced and made it a roller coaster ride. it was an eye opener for him too, you loved him for who he was, his flaws— that being the curse. although there were frequent bickers, that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy or hate them. he was afraid you’d leave after knowing his transformation.

you didn’t. you stayed. not because you were forced to just to keep his secret, you stayed since you said you’d help. and that lifted weight off of his shoulders. colours came into view more spirited, clouded thoughts in his head faded and everything he heard that were once muffled became clear. he had to compare it like he was reborn.

in the end, you were still beside him, adjacent to him.

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